


Where I End and You Begin

by darcysxx



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, F/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-22
Updated: 2018-01-07
Packaged: 2018-05-28 09:13:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 56,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6323587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darcysxx/pseuds/darcysxx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'Lydia cleared her throat and the brunette boy turned his head to face her, expression open and so boyish it was charming. </p><p>Her mind was definitely made up. </p><p>She spoke with slight apprehension, “Stiles, do you want to move in with me?”'</p><p>When Lydia Martin bumps into a vaguely familiar boy from high school she realises Stiles Stilinski is the solution to her current living situation. She has no idea what she's getting herself into. Also known as the roommate!AU you never knew you wanted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Solution

**Author's Note:**

> So i had a dream about this fic idea and jotted a basic plan while i was half asleep so we'll see how it goes. Definitely going to be multichapter though!! Hope you stick with me through the journey of stiles and lydia falling in lurve ;))) Without further ado.......

Lydia Martin normally looked beautiful when she woke up from a good night’s sleep, it was all fluttering eyelashes, slow smiles, and messy but endearing bedhead.

Not today however.

The blaring noise emanating from her roommate’s hairdryer at – Lydia rolled over to check the time on her phone – seven-thirty in the morning had caused the red-head to slowly come to with squinting eyes and a frown that would likely last the rest of the day. She cursed inwardly and reaffirmed the notion that she was going to get out of this hellish student accommodation as soon as possible.

Kirsty or Kelly or whatever the slender blonde’s name was turned to Lydia and ever-so-innocently asked, “Oh! Sorry, did I wake you?”

She knew she was being harsh; the cheerleader was at a disadvantage following a year of Lydia rooming her best friend. The red-head reasoned that maybe if she wasn’t so sour about Allison leaving California to study dance in New York then maybe she would’ve given Kendra the benefit of the doubt. Maybe she was going to turn out to be an amazing roommate.

And besides Lydia had decided that this year she was going to be nicer to other girls. Allison was always saying that she was too mean to their fellow sisters.

She faked a smile, “No, its fine I was already waking up.”

Kelsi returned the smile and turned around, continuing to blow dry her hair.

Lydia started to gather all the things needed for a shower and made her way to the tiny bathroom. It was the 2016 Orientation Fair today and she promised to put a few hours in at the University of California, Los Angeles Mathematics Society’s stall, trying to recruit like-minded freshmen.

After the completely refreshing, albeit long shower, her stepped out of the bathroom and back into her room to find Katie sitting on Lydia’s bed tying her shoelaces. At the red-head’s questioning look she flashed that pearly white grin again.

“Sorry! Your bed was closer to where I was standing.” She offered, the blonde then stood up and grabbed her gym bag, slinging it over her shoulder in a smooth movement, “I’m doing a routine at the O Fair today so I guess I’ll see you tonight?”

Lydia smiled tensely and offered a small _mmhm_ noise from the back of her throat. Once Kylie had left she sat down on her bed and frowned. She hated people touching her stuff.

Lydia took a calming breath and told herself to be nice yet again.

All forgiving feelings evaporated however when she lifted her hand to pick up her phone and noticed three long and very, very blonde hairs clinging to her fingers.

She was definitely getting the hell out of this room.

 

* * *

 

After three straight hours of freshmen coming up to the UCLAMS stall and either hitting on Lydia or telling her and Logan how much they hated math she had had more than enough.

Subconsciously tossing her curls back over her shoulder she turned to her fellow trooper, “Logan, I’m sorry but I don’t think I can do this anymore.”

The boy huffed out a laugh and presented her a shy smile. Logan was probably her closest friend at UCLA apart from Allison, they met in the first week of freshmen year through a shared adoration of mathematics. Lydia found him passionate about learning despite lacking a few basic social skills, she liked that he always wore black rimmed glasses and polo shirts, even though he knew it was nerdy. She noted he was not wholly unattractive.

When Lydia didn’t get the desired response from him she stood up and straightened out her skirt, “I’m serious!”

This time he laughed with genuine mirth, “Just go Lydia, I’ll text Brian. Thanks for helping out!” he exclaimed sincerely.

She gave him a quick hug and set off for her favourite campus café, The Moo Station. Lydia knew the name was stupid but it was quite popular among students and the barista had an undeniable crush on her so she got a large size no matter what she paid for.

After taking a sip from her large latte she found a slightly quieter part of campus and a serene looking park bench. She had no idea the whole orientation process was so annoying to everyone that wasn’t a freshmen. Thinking about her first day made her cringe, she was still the stone-cold Lydia Martin from Beacons Hills High, unable to comprehend an enjoyable college experience that would come from letting her guard down.

Luckily she had Allison by her side, who taught her to open up, be spontaneous and so on. Lydia knew she wasn’t a complete ray of sunshine and never thought she would be, but it was nice to let herself enjoy experiences the old Lydia wouldn’t.

The red-head adjusted her bug-eyed sunglasses and started to people watch. There were a few couples relaxing on the green lawn, a few boys throwing a football around, there was even one kid wandering around with a map looking well and truly lost. As he wandered closer to Lydia she decided to put him out of his misery.

After standing up and straightening out the temporary creases on her A-line skirt she walked over to the tall boy. When he caught side of her his eyes widened almost comically, a reaction Lydia was very, very used to.

“Lydia?!” he called.

When she stopped in her tracks he started walking towards her.

“Um…” the red-head muttered, pulling her sunglasses onto the top of her head and squinting to get a better look at his face.

He actually did look vaguely familiar but she couldn’t place him, much to her frustration.

“Lydia Martin?” He asked more quietly but with no less enthusiasm when he stopped a foot away from her. She swore his name was on the tip of her tongue. Despite being a literal genius Lydia had always had trouble connecting names to faces.

“Yeah I’m Lydia” She told him, not wanting to give away that she didn’t know who he was just yet.

The dark-haired boy frowned and his mouth formed into something resembling a pout, “You don’t know who I am do you?”

Lydia sighed, “Sorry?”

She wished it didn’t sound so much like a question.

The boy imitated her sigh and gestured to himself a few times, “Stiles Stilinski, we went to high school together, remember? We were lab partners for a few weeks in Junior chem…”

And there it was! Lydia did remember the lanky ball of flailing limbs and sarcastic remarks she had to deal with for almost a month. The Stiles in front of her however had filled out an impressive amount since she last saw him, his dress sense had slightly improved too. Gone were the printed t-shirts and blazers, now it was all block colours and better fitting clothes. She took a good look at his face in the sunlight. He obviously still had a few moles smattering his face and neck, and his eyes were a nice shade of hazel. His hair looked better too, in high school it was either too short or too spikey. Overall she was fascinated by the improvement, puberty can be kind sometimes she supposed.

Stiles cleared his throat after a few moments of Lydia’s scrutiny and an air of awkwardness settled over the two. Lydia itched to cut the conversation off here and go back to relaxing by herself but a voice sounding suspiciously like Allison’s saying _be nice_ echoed in her head.

“So where are you headed?” Lydia asked, pointing at his slightly crumpled map.

Stiles’ shoulders sagged, releasing a breath of relief he didn’t know he was holding. Lydia Martin actually wanted to keep talking to him.

“Um…the flyer says lecture theatre one in Slichter Hall but I can’t find the unnecessarily elusive building on the map.” Stiles answered with a huff, pulling an even more crumpled flyer from his back pocket.

Lydia took the flyer from his large hands and read the words aloud, “Forensics: Intro to Toxicology, Seminar One.”

Lydia raised her eyebrows at him.

Stiles’ eyes widened slightly and he hurried to explain himself, “I know it sounds like I’m serial killer but I actually find it really interesting and I figured I could help my dad with cases once I graduate, please don’t think I’m weird…”

Lydia had forgotten his father was the County Sheriff, she surprisingly found the sentiment kind of… sweet.

She shrugged, “I’m double majoring in Pure Mathematics and Biochemistry. Don’t worry, people think I’m weird too.”

She announced the magnitude of her intellect so casually that Stiles had to gawk at her for a minute.

Lydia pretended not to notice.

“So do you want me to walk you to Slichter Hall?” She asked him.

“Uh –um,” Stiles stammered, still the same fumbling ball of nerves whenever the red-head was in the vicinity, “Are you sure?” he finished lamely.

Lydia laughed, a short trill of a sound before changing her voice to the all too familiar tone of sarcasm, “Wait no! I’m not sure, I don’t think I can really commit to walking you to the other side of campus.”

Stiles narrowed his eyes at her jokingly, enjoying this playful side he hadn’t seen in high school, “We’ll I guess I’ll just have to walk there by myself and probably get lost. I’ll have to live in the wilderness for at least nine days, I might even die. Hope you’re happy with yourself, Lydia!”

Lydia huffed out another laugh and rolled her eyes, she'd forgotten he had a flair for the dramatic.

She started leading him in the direction of his seminar while they make simple conversation. He asked her if she has any tips for his freshmen year, she asked what he did in his year off. Turns out he and Scott went on a road trip around America, Allison probably mentioned it last year but Lydia never payed much attention to anything Scott Mccall related. Especially because he and Allison haven’t been actually together for the last two years yet they still call each other almost every day and somehow manage to be more lovey-dovey than in high school.

It drained Lydia just thinking about it.

She turned her attention back to Stiles realising she’d let the conversation die off.

“What’s your living situation being so far from Beacon Hills?” she asked, trying to rectify her bad manners.

Stiles outwardly sighed, “Right now I’m living in the student dorms but I fucking hate it. My roommate is this massive jock walking stereotype that somehow always smells like onions and said the words ‘no homo’ when I accidentally walked into him after getting out of the shower. Like…out loud.”

Lydia couldn’t help the unattractive snort that forced its way out or her. How had she never appreciated how funny Stiles was in high school?

She smiled empathetically at him, “I completely understand. My roommate is nice and all but just a bit of a nuisance if I’m being honest, I’m trying to give her a chance but it’s not going well….to tell you the truth I honestly don’t know her name.” Lydia admitted with the appropriate amount of embarrassment.

Stiles’ mouth opened in shock, the corners of his lips twitching upward, “Wow Lydia. You are a bad person.”

“I know!” Lydia cried, letting herself truly enjoy the light-heartedness of this conversation.

They fell silent, this time the air was comfortable.

After a beat Stiles spoke again, “I wish I could move out…”

His face was too sad for Lydia’s liking.

The red-head started to mull the idea over in her head. She obviously didn’t know him very well at all but sometimes an almost stranger can be the perfect roommate. She’s sure she could find a relatively cheap two bedroom apartment close enough to campus. They clearly felt the same way about their current living situation. She also realised with a slight jolt that she was genuinely enjoying his company, he’s funny and she knew it wouldn’t take long for them to become comfortable with each other.

Her mind was made up.

Lydia cleared her throat and the brunette boy turned his head to face her, expression open and so boyish it was charming.

Her mind was definitely made up.

She spoke with slight apprehension, “Stiles, do you want to move in with me?”


	2. The Answer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am hella inspired rn so ngl im probably not going to be this quick at updating, but anyway enjoy!! <3

Stiles stared at Lydia for a few moments while his brain short circuited.

Did she just say the words _move in with me_? Stiles shook his head. That makes no sense, she must have said _schmove schmin schmith schme_ or something like that….

Maybe she was talking to someone else! Stiles whipped his head around to find another human being in their general vicinity but they were still walking across a particularly quiet part of campus.

Lydia clicked a manicured hand in front of his face, “Hello?! Stiles? Are you going to answer my question?”

“Did you just ask me to move in with you?” he asked, looking at her heart-shaped face and furrowing his brow.

Lydia gave him a dramatic eye-roll and stopped walking. Stiles halted his movement as well, turning to face the red-head.

“Try to keep up, Stilinski.” she huffed, her patience was wearing thinner and thinner with every stupid comment he made.

So many questions buzzed around Stiles’ brain while his mouth opened and closed, trying to find the right one. “ _Why?_ ” he settled on.

Lydia sighed and pursed her lips, “Because we _just_ talked about how much we hate our living situations. It’s quite simple really…”

Stiles bristled slightly. He could do without the condescending attitude but he let it slide, instead choosing to focus on the plethora of questions straining against his verbal dam.

“But you don’t even _know_ me,” he began, “I mean, what if I’m a serial killer?”

At this Lydia raked her eyes up and down his figure and smiled. He couldn’t hurt a fly.

Stiles seemed indignant, “I could be! And aside from that there are so many other things to consider! How would we afford an apartment? How do we get out of student housing? How would we find an apartment for lease close to campus when semester is about to start? Once again, _why_?!”

Lydia was ready for the onslaught of questions, much to Stiles’ amazement. She adjusted her sunglasses and began to speak, “Stiles I don’t have to _know_ you to be roommates with you, strangers live together all the time. And I’m one hundred and twenty percent sure you’re not a serial killer either. As for the student housing, if you withdraw from the dorms before the census date you get a full refund minus the initial three week deposit. I’m also sure I could find a fairly cheap apartment around here if I looked hard enough. Craigslist occasionally has hidden gems.” Lydia took a breath, “You shouldn’t have to ask why I want you to move in with me. We know each other considerably more than our roommates, and I hate to admit it but I’m actually enjoying your company.”

Stiles inwardly preened at the compliment, never expecting to hear something like that from Ice Queen Lydia Martin. He gave the petite red-head another once-over. She had certainly changed since high school, gone were the cold stares and reluctance to have anything to do with anyone that wasn’t Jackson or Allison. Instead here she was. Still apathetic, if not slightly cold, but there was a lightness to her eyes and an easiness to her smile.

He liked the new Lydia.

“Okay.” Stiles swallowed, still trying to comprehend what she was asking of him.

Lydia smiled almost fondly at him and placed a hand on his bicep. Stiles almost flinched away from the touch, not quite ready for the skin on skin contact he had dreamed of in high school.

“Relax Stiles,” she said comfortingly, “I’m not asking you to make any decisions right now. How about I give you my phone number and you get back to me by the end of week?”

Stiles swallowed again, too aware of her delicate hand slowly rubbing up and down his arm to think straight. He knew Lydia was trying to be reassuring but the teenager that probably would’ve passed out if she’d done years ago was clearly still inhabiting a space in his mind.

“Okay.” He repeated, this time with more conviction.

“Great!” Lydia exclaimed. Stiles silently mourned to loss of her hand when she used it to fish her phone out from her purse.

She passed it to him and he quickly added himself as a new contact, he then texted himself a _hey_ so he would have her number too.

Lydia grabbed her phone from his hands and pointed in the direction of a striking brown-stone building about one-hundred metres away, “That’s Slichter Hall. Lecture theatre one is just right in the middle there, I have some reading to do now but I’ll start looking at apartments later tonight!” her voice was thick with excitement, “I’ll text you if I find any good ones. Think it over!”

She began to walk back towards where they came from with a wave and Stiles was left standing there dumbstruck.

This college experience was going to be even better than he imagined.

 

* * *

 

Stiles payed hardly any attention to his seminar. It was probably unwise seeing as it’s an _introduction_ to the thing he wanted to spend the rest of his life doing, something he really didn’t know that much about just yet, but he couldn’t get Lydia’s proposal out of his head.

When the girl sitting next to him gave him a withering glare he realised he was rapidly bouncing his right leg under his lecture theatre table. Just like that his nervous ticks were back in full force.

Stiles flipped his empty notepad open with slightly shaking hands and roughly drew a two column table. He wrote _pros_ and _cons_ in the heading spaces.

Under _pros_ he jotted down in messy scrawl:

  * _Moving in with Lydia Martin (self-explanatory)_
  * _Won’t have to live with ‘no homo’_
  * _Will get to know Lydia Martin_
  * _Will get to see Lydia Martin in the morning_
  * _Will have a bathroom and kitchen to ourselves_
  * _Will possibly be able to convince Lydia Martin to watch Star Wars_
  * _Lydia Martin (also self-explanatory)._



He tapped his pen a few times on his notepad. It was not a bad list at all, Stiles reasoned.

He turned to the _cons_ column and wrote one painful sentence.

_Will likely fall in love with Lydia Martin._

Stiles sighed and replaced the _likely_ with _definitely_ after a moment of contemplation. He liked her throughout high school when she was the unapproachable ice-queen, how was he going to cope when he saw her eating cereal in the morning or watching TV in her pyjamas?

He knew seeing Lydia as human being instead of an idea of a person was going to wreck him.

Stiles sighed again and wrote at the bottom of the page _YOU CAN DEAL WITH UNREQUITED LOVE!! THIS IS LYDIA MARTIN WE’RE TALKING ABOUT, YOU WEAKLING!!!_ in capital letters.

The notepad was right, he would be kicking himself for the rest of his life if he gave up this opportunity. Stiles actually had the chance to be friends with Lydia, why was he even considering saying no?

The seminar mercifully ended a few minutes later. Despite not actually learning anything, Stiles was glad for the time it gave him to contemplate everything.

His mind was made up.

Stiles took his phone out of his pocket to text the red-head but thought better of as soon as he unlocked the screen.

Maybe he’d wait a while actually. He didn’t want to seem too desperate.

 

* * *

 

Once Lydia had finished her _Lehninger Principles of Biochemistry_ readings she excitedly logged on to her computer. Her roommate was sitting on her own bed attempting to attach a bright orange ribbon to one of her hair-ties without much luck. Lydia felt a bit ashamed looking at potential apartments while the blonde was sitting right there, but she reasoned that maybe another cheer-leader would take her room instead and the two would have much more in common.

The red-head turned back to her laptop and began browsing for nearby apartments on various websites. Every time she saw one that looked promising she would open it in another tab and repeat the process. So far none had really jumped out at her.  

After a few hours of searching Lydia looked at the clock, it was approaching eleven. Her roommate had gone to bed and the only thing illuminating the room was the light from Lydia’s laptop.

She was beginning to lose hope. Everything she’d checked out had been unavailable or undesirable for some reason or another. Not to mention Stiles hadn’t texted her yet. She knew she gave him until the end of the week but she really thought he would’ve made his mind up almost straight away.

Maybe this was a bad idea after all.

It was at this point that Lydia’s eyes landed on a seemingly unassuming add on Craigslist that was advertising a two-bedroom flat for only five hundred dollars a month. She eagerly clicked the link and started reading the specifics.

_Two adjacent bedrooms. One bathroom. Spacious kitchenette/living room area. 2x1 metre balcony. 10 minute drive from UCLA campus and 20 minute drive from LA._

It really seemed to good to be true. Lydia checked its availability with bated breath and saw that no one had leased it yet. There was hope after all.

Just as Lydia picked up her phone to add the land lord’s number to her contacts the screen lit up with a text.

 _Stiles [smiley face emoji]_ : _I’m in :)_

Lydia’s heart swelled. This was really happening, she was going to move into her own apartment. She was going to be an adult.

She quickly unlocked her phone and typed out a message with fast-moving fingers.

_You: Great! Just found an amazing apartment, I’ll send you the details tomorrow :) x_

The red-head shut her laptop and locked her phone. While crawling into bed she felt more excitement for tomorrow than she had too long. This was going to be a great year.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> reviews are life <3


	3. The Inspection

When Lydia woke up the next morning she grabbed her phone immediately, checking to see if the previous night’s findings really happened or if it was just a good dream. Sure enough the land lord’s name, Glen, was still in her contacts.

Karen was still asleep so Lydia put on skins and a tank top, then walked out into the dorm hallway with purpose.

She checked her phone again, seeing that it was almost nine-thirty in the morning. A perfectly acceptable time to make a business inquiry.

Lydia paced out of the dorm building to stand in the little courtyard students came to have smoke breaks and pre-party drinks. The sun was shining down into the little square and warming Lydia’s skin, making her feel a tad more optimistic about the phone call she was about to make.

She looked around the yard. Vibrant green fronds lined the border, making it look like a sanctuary. It was a shame she wouldn’t get to take advantage of the quiet area.

Lydia shook her head. She needed to stop assuming this apartment was going to work out, because if she was wrong her hopes would be crushed.

The red-head took a deep breath and pressed the dial button on Glen’s number, crossing her legs underneath the picnic table.

The phone rang a few times before she heard the distinct sound of someone answering the call. “Hello?” a grainy voice asked.

Lydia let her voice rise into the high-pitched tone it normally did whenever she did anything in the realm of adulthood, “Hello, is this Glen I’m speaking to?” she enquired.

“Yes, this is Glen.” The man answered. He sounded middle aged and like he wasn’t expecting a phone call so early in the morning.

“Hi, Glen. My name is Lydia and I found your ad on Craigslist last night concerning the two bedroom apartment near the UCLA campus. I was wondering if it was still available for lease.” Lydia stated, meanwhile she had started absentmindedly playing with the splinters sticking out of the picnic table. She needed him to say yes.

After a small pause Glen spoke again, sounding much more alert, “Ah yes! You’re actually the first person to call me about that property. I’m such a luddite when it comes to computers, I realised last night I’d had the advertisement set as ‘unlisted’ so I hadn’t received any enquiries, silly me! So in short, yes it is available for lease.”

Lydia grinned, how incredibly lucky! If she hadn’t been browsing so late at night someone else surely would’ve seen it this morning and gotten in before her.

She cleared her throat, “That’s wonderful!” she exclaimed, “Am I able to see it in person before I make any decisions?”

“Yes, of course. Hang on let me check my timetable,” there was a sound of rustling paper before Glen answered her question, “How about later today at around five pm?”

Lydia mentally ran through her schedule, she had a lecture at three until four pm so it worked out perfectly. “That sounds great, I’ll definitely be there and depending on his schedule my, uh, flatmate might be there too.”

Glen sounded a lot happier than he did when he answered the phone, “Okay, see you at five then Lydia!”

“See you then!” she beamed, hanging up the phone and finding Stiles’ number.

He took considerably longer to answer the phone than Glen, she guessed that he was still sleeping. “Lydia?” he groggily asked when he answered the call. He was definitely sleeping.

“Hey, sorry did I wake you?” Lydia questioned, uncrossing and recrossing her legs to get more comfortable.

Stiles made a sound like he was stifling a yawn, “No, I was already awake.”

Liar.

“Sure,” she said, “Are you free at five today?”

“Um…yeah, yep I think so.” He told her unsurely, Lydia sighed. She should’ve called him later in the day when he wasn’t so slow.

“I’m going to check out an apartment at that time if you want to come” she invited. She hoped he said yes, the process would be so much easier with a second opinion.

“Whoa!” Stiles exclaimed, “How did you find a place so fast?!”

Lydia smiled, “Honestly?” she answered, “Pure luck.”

Suddenly she heard a series of thumps and a muffled ‘ _fuck!_ ’ from Stiles. Lydia has to suppress her laughter, he was clearly just as uncoordinated as he was in high school.

She stayed silent, waiting for him to explain himself. “So, uh…where you do you want to meet?” was all he said.

Coward.

“The Moo Station.” She told him assertively, “I’m going to need a coffee before I do this and it’s near where my car is parked.”

“Sure,” Stiles agreed, he paused for a moment before seemingly remembering something, “Oh hey, can you send me the details about the apartment so I can check it out?”

Lydia was glad he remembered because she likely would’ve forgotten herself. “Of course,” she answered “I’ll do it in a minute, see you at four-forty!”

Stiles hummed in agreement and she ended the phone call.

Now that that was all sorted Lydia needed to get ready for the rest of the day. She stood up after soaking up the sun for a few more seconds then left the courtyard, brushing her fingers along the soft leaves.

When she got back to her room Keily was awake and packing her gym bag with various cheer-leading gear. “Morning!” she chorused brightly.

“Hi.” Lydia replied, she had to give the girl points for being so cheery all the time. She began to go through her wardrobe, trying to find an outfit that told Glen she was capable of handling things like rent but wasn’t too uptight.

Luckily, smart casual was something that Lydia excelled at. She picked out a gorgeous, creamy button up shirt and a pair of tailored jeans. Along with heeled ankle boots the outfit was perfect.

“Got any plans for today?” The blonde asked conversationally. Lydia turned to her and observed the cheer-leader braiding her hair.

She really was quite lovely. The red-head dreaded telling her she was going to move out.

“Just a couple of lectures,” Lydia lied, “What about you?”

Kiara turned to smile at her, “Same! I have to run cheer tryouts as well, wish me luck.” She paused to let out a short laugh, “Some people are just plain awful, but at least they’re being brave.”

Lydia nodded as though she agreed. She didn’t care much for cheerleading and she was still getting used to making conversation with other girls but she was trying.

“Anyway I’ve got to go,” the blonde informed her, standing to gather her things, “Have a great day!”

As soon as the door closed behind her Lydia walked over to the girl’s desk, looking for anything that might have her name on it. She decided this had gone on for too long.

Conveniently there was an exercise book that read ‘Kaylee. Art History Unit 3’ in curly script.

Lydia breathed a sigh of relief. At least she wouldn’t get her name wrong when she ditched her to live with Stiles Stilinski of all people.

 

* * *

 

The rest of the day passed relatively quickly and soon enough Stiles was walking towards The Moo Station looking out for a short red-head.

He was dressed in jeans and a white button up shirt. It wasn’t his usual attire but an hour so after this morning’s phone he had received a text from Lydia reading _wear something smart casual_ with a link to the flat’s advertisement attached.

He wasn’t going to tell her he had to look up what that meant.

He only had to search the café for a few seconds before he saw Lydia standing outside of the entrance holding two take-away cups and taping her foot impatiently.

“Finally!” She reprimanded him as he walked up to her, simultaneously handing him one of the cups, “I got you a latte because I didn’t know what you wanted.”

Stiles lifted his left hand and checked his Star Wars themed watch, “Relax Lydia, its only four-forty-one.” He then took the cup from her small hand, “And thank you, but I usually drink mochas just letting you know.”

Lydia scoffed, choosing not to comment.

She held her own coffee cup out to him, “Hold this.” She commanded.

Stiles grabbed the cup out of her hand. The red-head began unbuttoning the cuffs of his sleeves and rolling them to just under his elbows.

Stiles swallowed. How very…domestic.

She looked up at his questioning glance when she was done, “You looked too formal,” was all she offered, grasping her cup back from his hand and taking a long sip, “Shall we?”

Stiles nodded and let her lead the way.

The drive to the apartment was fairly quiet, consisting mainly of _do’s_ and _don’ts_ from Lydia and a few conversational questions from Stiles. He had worked out pretty quickly that a friendship between them would take a while to form but he hadn’t realised she’d be so completely business-like about the whole ordeal. Maybe he could try to provide some comic relief so this Glen guy wouldn’t think they were too boring.

They arrived at the complex five minutes early which Lydia was happy about. Standing outside the metal gate was a man dressed in a black suit, Stiles figured it must be Glen. His hair was predominantly grey and his suit failed to hide his beer gut. He was holding a briefcase in one hand and a bunch of keys in the other, his expression was relaxed. Lydia and Stiles both silently released a breath, he looked kind.

“Hello, Glen?” Lydia asked as the pair walked closer to him.

The man smiled and stuck his hand out for her to shake, “Yes I’m Glen, you must be Lydia!” he concluded, shaking her hand, “And you are?...”

Stiles jolted forward, grasping Glen’s hand and shaking it firmly, “Hi, I’m Stiles.”

Glen nodded and turned to the gate, he took a minute to find the right key while he told them about the upstanding security. Stiles was only half-listening, assuming Lydia would remember most of the logistics if he needed to know anything. He was mainly focussed on looking around the complex, he needed to see if it was a nice environment before deciding if he wanted to live there.

Once the gate had been opened the trio walked through a small alley-way, there were doors to other apartments periodically dotted along the path. Glen led them around a corner and up a flight of stairs before stopping in front of a door labelled _2B._

Stiles waited impatiently for the man to open the door, once again Glen struggled to find the key. Lydia silently put a hand on the brunette’s arm to stop the fidgety movements he didn’t realise he was making. He smiled at her in thanks.

Glen finally found the right key and opened the door, leading the three of them into a sunlit living room. The walls were a shade of off-white, making the room look larger than it actually was. There was a small kitchen to their left and next to it was one couch facing a fairly wide TV on the opposing wall. On their immediate right were two adjacent doors, leading to what the pair concluded must be the bedrooms. Towards the back of the flat there was one door showing them what looked like a bathroom and another door opening onto the balcony.

Stiles looked around with wide eyes, trying to take it all in. It looked so homely. “Do you mind if I look around?” he asked Glen.

The land-lord turned to him and smiled, likely sensing the pair were sold. “Of course!”

Stiles gave him an absentminded thumbs up which he saw Lydia roll her eyes at out the corner of his eye.

“Does it have a laundry?” he heard her enquire while he was exploring the first bedroom.

“No sorry but there’s a communal laundry just downstairs.” Glen answered. Stiles heard him say something else but his voice was too muffled, they must’ve gone into another room.

He continued looking around but it was almost pointless. At this point if he found a dead body in the closet he probably still sign the lease, he already loved the place.

Stiles walked back into the living room just as Glen and Lydia came inside from the balcony. “Do you mind if we have a moment to discuss this?” Lydia queried, walking closer to Stiles.

“Of course.” Glen allowed, turning around to busy himself with his phone.

“What do you think?” Lydia asked Stiles with a hushed voice. They walked further into the corner of the room so they wouldn’t be overheard by Glen.

The brunette looked down at her, “I love it!” he exclaimed as quietly as he could, “What do you think?”

Lydia bounced once on the balls of her feet and grinned. Stiles had to look away for a moment, overwhelmed with how endearing the action was. She was full of surprises.

“I really, really like it!” she gushed, “I can’t think of any drawbacks except for the laundry but it really doesn’t matter that much to me.” She accompanied the sentiment with an airy wave of her hand.

Stiles raised his eyebrows hopefully, “So it’s a yes?”

Lydia nodded rapidly, smiling wider than he had ever seen. It wasn’t particularly special considering she rarely showed emotion in high school but he was glad he got to see it nonetheless.

They both turned around and cleared their throats, walking towards the middle of the apartment. Glen met them halfway.

“So are you interested?” he asked hopefully.

They looked at each other once more for confirmation before Lydia spoke, “We’d love to live here,” she told him. “When can we sign the lease?”

Glen clapped his hands together joyously, “Great! We can meet later in the week to finalise the paperwork.” He answered, “In the meantime, feel free to look around your new home!”    

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wooo domestic stydia. reviews are life <3


	4. The Move

The next week passed relatively quickly with Lydia and Stiles both trying to juggle schoolwork and moving in to the flat. On Saturday Lydia’s mom and Stiles’ dad drove down to L.A. to help with some of the heavy lifting.

They largely seemed to approve of the new living arrangement. Lydia’s mom, however, did have something to say about Stiles.

“Do you even know anything about him?” Natalie questioned the red-head, pulling her aside while Stiles and the Sheriff were preoccupied with the TV programming. Lydia began to roll her eyes but had to hide it by pretending her left eye was itchy. Her mother wouldn’t appreciate the attitude.

“Mom,” Lydia started, keeping her voice steady and assertive, like she was completely sure about the situation, “I went to high school with him. We weren’t close but we know each other well enough.” She reasoned.

Natalie looked down at Lydia with a raised eyebrow and a disbelieving squint of her eyes, clearly thinking the idea was crazy. However, the woman had long ago accepted that her daughter was beyond capable of making her own decisions and she generally trusted her judgement.

Lydia chose not to tell her mother that she genuinely hadn’t remembered who Stiles was before he told her, knowing that Natalie would storm into Glen’s office and tear up the signed lease without remorse.

The red-head inwardly panicked, trying to think of something she could tell her mother about Stiles that made it seem like they were friends. “He goes for the Mets!” she blurted out, recalling him mentioning something about orange and blue a couple of years ago.

Natalie stared at her for a moment longer then turned away to resume making Lydia’s bed, seemingly convinced.

By the end of the night both parents had left, wishing their kids good luck and telling them they’d give them a call later in the week. Lydia and Stiles were planning to stay in their dorms for one more night until the very last of their belongings were moved in by the end of the weekend.

When Lydia returned to her room Kaylee had just gotten out of the shower. Telling her that she was moving out was painful, the blonde was understandably upset but she accepted it graciously. The red-head promised her that they would get coffee together soon, but she knew it likely wouldn’t happen.

“How the move go?” Kaylee asked politely.

Lydia dumped her handbag on her bed and started getting ready for sleep, she turned to the girl, “Pretty well but I’m so tired. It should be finished by tomorrow and then I’ll be out of your hair.” She told the girl with a soft smile.

Kaylee looked sad, “I’m glad it went well,” she climbed into her own bed, “Goodnight!”

“Goodnight.” Lydia replied.

She browsed her laptop for a few minutes before letting herself really feel the exhaustion settling into her bones. The red-head looked around the room one more time before pulling the covers up to her head and closing her eyes.

 

* * *

 

Stiles had just parked his jeep in the complex’s underground parking lot when he saw Lydia’s cerulean car pull up beside him. She sat in the front seat for a while organising a plethora of objects into her handbag. Stiles realised he was staring when she turned her head, noticing he was there and giving him a questioning glance.

The boy kick-started into action, opening the jeep door and smacking his head on the car doorway on the way out.

Lydia attempted to stifled her laughter as she heard Stiles let out a muffled string of profanities through her car window. She opened the door and much more gracefully exited her car. “How long have you had that jeep, again?” She asked him while she circled around to her boot, her mouth was almost in the shape of a smile.

Stiles sighed, rubbing his forehead, “Not long enough apparently…”

Lydia huffed a laugh so quietly Stiles almost missed it, then opened her boot and grabbed one of several boxes full of belongings.

“Do you want some help?” Stiles questioned politely but he was already making his way to her car, picking up the two heaviest boxes.

“Sure…” Lydia drawled, appreciating his chivalry. She took the last three boxes herself as they were relatively small. She was glad she wouldn’t have to make two trips thanks to Stiles’ help.

The pair stayed silent as they walked up the two flights of stairs to their apartment. They were both nervous about their first night living together, if it went horribly wrong what option did they have? Lydia inwardly started panicking, maybe this really was a terrible idea. Realistically this plan could so easily fall to pieces, she let herself get caught up in the idea of being independent. What if she couldn’t deal with Stiles’ bad habits? What if she truly started hating him? What if she started _loving_ him?

The red-head took a deep breath, unable to stop the cold sensation of anxiety slowly spreading through her veins.  

“Do you snore?!” Stiles asked suddenly as they approached their doorway, Lydia whipped her head around to face him, so confused that she was having trouble forming the words to ask what he meant. Stiles began fishing for the keys hidden somewhere in his pockets, “Look I know you’re tiny and all but if you disturb my sleep I’m so outtie……or I’ll murder you. One of those options.”

Lydia looked at the serious expression on the boy’s face once the door had closed behind them and she found the idea so ridiculous she couldn’t help the stream of giggles that burst out of her mouth. After the genuine laughter she relaxed the tense muscles in her shoulders. This was Stiles, she had absolutely nothing to worry about. He was a giant dork and somehow always managed to lighten then situation. Living with him was going to be fine.

“I’m serious.” Stiles frowned.

Lydia grinned at him, feeling immensely reassured, “I don’t snore, you idiot!” she claimed indignantly.

The brunette seemed to accept this and attempted to gesture at the two boxes he was still holding, “Where do you want these?” he asked.

The red-head walked towards her room, opening the door and placing the boxes she was holding on her desk, “Just in here is fine!”

Once Lydia had unpacked most of her belongings she looked down at her Armani watch, realising it was dinner time.

She exited her room and knocked on Stiles’ door. They’d decided Lydia would have the room closest to the front door because it was slightly bigger and had a wider window, Stiles was closer to the bathroom because he really couldn’t handle his alcohol.

“Yeah?” Stiles muttered the question as soon as he swung the door open, he was wearing sweatpants and a white t-shirt. Lydia was envious of how comfortable he looked, still in a tight skirt and heels, forgetting to change once she’d began unpacking.

“Are you hungry?” she asked in return, walking back towards the kitchen. She looked at him over her shoulder, “Because I’m starving.”

Stiles wandered out of his room and opened the pantry door despite both of them knowing there wasn’t any food in there. “Maybe we should get take-out,” he suggested, “Pizza?”

Lydia shrugged, feeling like today could be an exception to the healthy diet she was attempting to maintain this year, “I’ll just have a couple of slices of Hawaiian, please.” She told him.

Stiles nodded and pulled his phone out of his pocket while the red-head walked back into her room to get changed into something less rigid. She emerged in leggings and a hoodie, still not comfortable enough to wear pyjamas around him. She still felt the need to maintain her Queen Bee image from time to time, it was right in the middle of her comfort zone.

Lydia plonked herself down on the couch and turned on the TV, surfing the channels until she found a rerun of a Friends episode. Stiles finished ordering the pizza, then made his way to the sofa and sat down. There was a foot of space in between them but neither of them minded, it wasn’t as though they expected to be cuddling up together at any point throughout the year. Lydia especially wanted to make it very clear they weren’t going to be living like a couple.

At some point during the second episode of Friends the intercom rang. Stiles got up to buzz the delivery guy in, telling him they were in apartment 2B and soon enough the pair were devouring pizza on the couch.

After putting the boxes in the recycling bin Stiles walked back over to Lydia, “I’m going to sit on the balcony for a few minutes if you want to join, I feel like being reflective.” He told her, Lydia scoffed in response, “Hey I’m a sensitive soul!”

“I might come out in a minute, Nietzsche” she teased as he went outside. After a moment of browsing on her phone Lydia stood up and padded over to the balcony, sitting in the empty metal chair.

The two young adults sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes. Stiles was thinking about the upcoming due dates for his schoolwork, Lydia was thinking about the logistics they needed to work out for the apartment. Maybe they could dedicate an hour or so to chat about that later in the week, she considered.  

The red-head looked up at the dim stars. Due to the close city lights many of the stars were hidden but Lydia could still see a few of her favourite constellations. “Look, it’s Orion’s belt!” she pointed out to Stiles, “Oh, and Ursa Major!”

“Huh?” he questioned, looking over at her with an embarrassing amount of confusion.

Lydia attempted to show him where the constellations were for a solid five minutes but he was unable to find them. Frustrated, she resolved to teach him how to look for them later in the year.

Once the pair started getting cold they headed back inside. Stiles turned off the television while Lydia began brushing her teeth.

“Goodnight!” she called out to the brunette once she was finished, then she walked into her bedroom and closed the door for the night.  Overall, it wasn’t a bad first night in the flat. They were both relatively easy-going and once they started to get to know each other Lydia reasoned that some of the current awkwardness would disappear.

The red-head read a chapter of her Linear Algebra textbook until her eyes started shutting of their own volition. She turned her light out and fell asleep almost straight away.

Once Stiles had turned out all the lights in the flat and brushed his own teeth, he retired to bed as well. He sent Scott a couple of messages about how the move went before climbing under the covers.

He was quite satisfied with how the first night had gone. He was happy that they were already fairly comfortable with each other. He also found Lydia’s fascination with the stars unbelievably endearing, but then again so was everything else she did.

Before going to sleep Stiles desperately prayed that a love of space would help him convince Lydia that they should have a Star Wars marathon. The brunette fell asleep with a smile on his face, dreaming about X-Wings and a red-headed Princess Leia 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the slow update!! I'm really going to try to build up the friendship right now so dont get too frustrated with Lydia's platonic feelings towards Stiles, trust me, its going somewhere ;))) reviews are life <3


	5. The Foundation

After the semester had well and truly started, time seemed to pass quickly.

Lydia and Stiles adjusted well to living together. They discussed a few conditions in their first week in the flat together, and found they agreed on most things. They were going to commit to a dinner roster; Lydia would do the weekly shopping if Stiles cooked, which she found he was surprisingly good at. They weren’t going to have any parties because there just wasn’t enough space, but gatherings and study-groups were okay. If they wanted to have ‘ _friends’_ over they promised each other not to make any embarrassing jokes in the morning after.

They also had to fashion a little sign that hung on the bathroom doorknob that indicated one of them was inside. This was after Lydia walked in on Stiles when he was about to hop into the shower, the awkwardness that lasted for the rest of the night was unbearable.

They had started watching TV together as well, finding that they liked the same shows. Stiles was a huge fan of The Walking Dead and somehow convinced Lydia to marathon it with him.

One particularly cold autumn night, when their space heater was working overtime, they were sat in front of the television watching Rick Grimes hacking at zombies with an axe. Lydia was sporting wool socks and a blue beanie, as well as clutching a hot chocolate in her small hands. Stiles liked the combination of the electric blue hat and the orange of her hair.

After a particularly gruesome zombie kill, he heard a noise of a disgust from the girl sitting beside him. He saw a small movement in his peripheral vision, however when he looked to the side Lydia was sitting still and paying attention to the viscera. He swivelled his head to look at the TV again, thinking he imagined it.

A few moments later it happened again. He glanced accusatorily at the red-head, but like before she was facing forward.

The third time it occurred the boy turned his head fast enough to catch Lydia scooting closer towards him. She clearly hadn’t realised he was looking at her as she was still slowly inching across the sofa. Stiles smirked, in a sudden flurry of motion he grabbed her legs, pulling them over his lap as the girl cried out.

“Jesus fucking Christ Stiles!” Lydia yelled, thwacking him on the shoulder. He noticed she didn’t move her legs.

“Cold, are we?” the boy asked with a wolfish grin, he tugged her a bit closer and rested his arms on top of her goose bump covered legs. “Why aren’t you wearing pants, anyway?”

Lydia sighed in bliss. She was slightly uncomfortable with the contact at first but as soon as she realised how much heat the brunette radiated she shuffled closer to him, letting him put an arm around her shoulders. “I’m challenging sexism.” She stated firmly.

Stiles let his head fall back onto the back of the couch as he cackled at the red-head, “By freezing to death?!” he questioned with genuine mirth.

Lydia huffed, threatening to move back to the other side of the couch but he only pulled her closer. When she opened her mouth again, she sounded unconvincing, even to her own ears. “I’m challenging the notion that women need to cover up!”

Stiles looked down at her.

“You can’t be fucked putting on pants, can you?”

Dammit, he was right. “Whatever.” Lydia sulked.

She couldn’t bring herself to be too upset about Stiles seeing right through her lies, however. She turned her attention back to The Walking Dead, letting herself be enveloped by warmth.

 

* * *

 

Stiles was finding his Forensics coursework ultimately enjoyable but he could admit his subjects were _hard_. Despite him having trouble staying awake in lectures and meeting his deadlines he couldn’t help but notice that Lydia’s schoolwork seemed twenty times harder.

He was fully aware that she was a genius with an IQ over 170 and she could honestly handle anything the professors decided to throw her way, but it just seemed so _time consuming_. He hated seeing her effected by stress and tiredness. Too many times she had woken up at unreasonable hours with dark rings under her eyes, drinking her coffee black and like her life depended on it. She also seemed to be constantly on the verge of getting sick, he could hear her sniffling and making noises of frustration late at night when she thought he had gone to sleep.

The night before her mid-semester biochemistry test, Stiles wanted to provide some temporary relief to the poor girl. She had shut herself in her room to study straight after dinner and likely wouldn’t come out until the morning. Stiles knocked on Lydia’s bedroom door with bated breath, hoping she agreed to the plan.

He could hear her sigh through the wood, “I’m kind of busy, Stiles.” She sounded miserable.

The boy slowly pushed the door open and entered her room, putting his hands up in a gesture of surrender when she pierced him with a glare. “I know you’re super stressed out right now,” he began with a falsely confident voice, “but I also did psychology in high school and I know that taking regular study breaks and sleeping well helps consolidate your memory.”

Lydia immediately rolled her eyes, “I know.”

Stiles swallowed. Of course she knew, she knew everything. He tried again, “Late night McDonald’s run?”

Lydia laughed despite herself. She was reluctantly moved that he was trying to ease her stress and unexpectedly felt a wave of affection for the brunette boy.

“Don’t you have an assignment due tomorrow?” She asked him as she stood up from her desk, searching for her money and green pea-coat.

Stiles waved his hand noncommittally, “Eh, back burner.”

“Stiles,” she said with a mixture of guilt and awe, cocking her head to the side, “I can’t ask that of you.”

Stiles shrugged, “You didn’t ask. I offered. Shall we go?”

Lydia seemed to accept this and the pair exited their apartment. They took Stiles’ jeep because he argued that he had the best CDs even though she kept insisting that she had Spotify and an aux cord. He put his favourite _Rolling Stones_ disk in the console before attempting to start the car. After a few tries the engine started up and they were on the road. Stiles rhythmically tapped his long fingers on the steering wheel to the tune of _Start Me Up_.

The arrived at the closest McDonald’s after twenty minutes and pulled into the drive-through. Stiles ordered a large Big Mac meal and Lydia ordered a medium McNuggets meal, once they got their food the boy parked the jeep in the parking lot.

The red-head moaned when the first fry hit her tongue. Stiles tried not the dwell on the sound. “This was fucking great idea,” Lydia praised him with a mouth full of food, usually her table manners were remarkably better but she considered this an exception, “I haven’t had McDonald’s in too long.”

Stiles hummed in agreement, not wanting to focus to anything other than the deep-fried goodness entering his mouth.

They ate their food in silence, listening to _The Rolling Stones_ sing about rock n roll.  Once they’d both finished their meals Stiles and Lydia continued sitting there quietly as little raindrops started splattering the windscreen.

The red-head turned to look at the boy, admiring his side profile in the moonlight. “Thank you.” She said sincerely.

Stiles slowly faced her. She looked ethereal in this lighting, sitting here in his car and thanking him, face open and honest. He felt overwhelmed, so _so_ overwhelmed by the feelings he had for this girl. She was so real and funny and complex and cute and _human_. Everything new he learned about her he fell harder.

He wasn’t stupid though. He knew if he made any move towards Lydia she would immediately retreat back into the personality she showed every other douchebag that tried anything. She seemed to trust and even like him after a month of living together, and he wasn’t about to do anything to jeopardise that.

Stiles exhaled and plastered a smile onto his face, “Ain’t no thang.” He said casually.

Lydia snorted and shook her head. “You’re so stupid sometimes…” she told him.

She looked so content and fond of him that he had to look away for a moment. This whole sitting-in-his-car-in-the-middle-of-the-night-while-it-was-raining scenario was too romantic for him. He itched to lean over and kiss her full, pink lips. His flexed his fingers beneath the steering wheel, resisting the urge to tuck a stray red curl behind her ear.

_God Stilinski_ , he thought to himself, _get a grip_.

Wordlessly, Stiles started the engine and peeled out of the parking lot. The drive home was filled with him singing along to most of the tracks on his CD, he was sure he heard Lydia humming along but she would vehemently deny it.

When they arrived home, Lydia strode to her bedroom door, feeling a sudden burst of energy from the food. She was ready to study.

Right before she entered her room she turned to the brunette boy. The red-head laid a hand on his upper arm, feeling the corded muscle underneath his hoodie then gave his bicep a soft squeeze. She didn’t feel quite ready to hug him. Lydia caught his eyes before telling him honestly, “I really mean it, Stiles. Thank you.”

She frowned when she saw that he looked uncomfortable and removed her hand from his arm. Maybe he didn’t feel like being touched tonight, she reasoned.

Stiles cleared his throat and smiled but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “It’s really no problem…I was hungry.”

Lydia nodded and walked into the bathroom to brush her teeth. She was confused by his behaviour, wondering why the sudden mood swing.

The girl shook her head, she needed to focus on studying. She wished Stiles a goodnight as she passed his door and sat herself down at her desk. It was going to be a long night.

 

* * *

 

 

“Ugh, come on!” Lydia cried out in frustration. She turned the key a few more times but her car refused to start. She checked her watch and started to panic, her test started in twenty minutes.

She snatched her phone from the seat beside her and frantically searched for Stiles’ number. Once she found it she hit the call button, growing more agitated every time she heard another ring.

Stiles finally picked up, “What’s wrong?” he asked her, not bothering with pretences. She rarely called him so he knew it was important.

“Stiles!” she said urgently, “My car won’t start and my test starts in twenty minutes! Can you please pick me up?!”

Lydia could hear a rustle of movement and the distinct sound of wind through the phone, indicating that he had started moving. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.” He reassured her before hanging up.  

The ten minute wait for him outside their complex was pure agony for her but she had to give Stiles points for getting there as quickly as he could, he undoubtedly would’ve had to speed.

The red-head practically dived into the jeep’s passenger seat and the tyres screeched beneath them as the car took off again. She made it to her test with one minute to spare.

After the whole ordeal Lydia thanked Stiles with a bouquet of hydrangeas and the fifth season of The Walking Dead on DVD, despite having to walk for fifteen minutes to the nearest shopping mall. The brunette looked positively ecstatic when she gave them to him, like a little kid on Christmas morning.

It made her smile, feeling proud that she knew him well enough to make him that happy by now.

That night they re-watched a couple of the episodes while they huddled together on the couch. Lydia pretended not to notice Stiles’ hand rubbing small circles into her skin where he had his arm resting.

She supposed she could let him be hopeful for one night, she felt as though he deserved it. Tomorrow though, things would return to normal. Lydia needed to non-verbally reiterate to him that they were still just friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> surprise update!! hope you liked this chapter, i love writing their banter :))) reviews are life <3


	6. The Secret

Lydia walked in the front door after a long day, then dumped her handbag on the table and bee-lined towards the fridge. Luckily, there were leftovers from Stiles’ lasagne the other night. The red-head glanced at the sink, clearly her roommate had some before she got home. She wasn’t particularly surprised though, considering she had told him she would be in the library finishing a group project until late.

“Hey, Stilinski!” She yelled in greeting to the boy. She heard the sound of him shuffling around his room before the door was wrenched open, revealing a tired-looking Stiles.

“Uh,” he looked around shiftily, “not going to lie, I definitely was asleep.”

Lydia looked down at her watch and shook her head disappointedly, “It’s nine pm on a Friday, you weakling.”

Stiles tried to feign outrage but was too groggy from sleep to feel any kind of emotion. He made a noncommittal noise and walked over to the couch. “Did you finish you’re assignment?” he asked distractedly, trying to choose something good to watch.

The red-head scooped a fair portion of lasagne onto her plate and stuck it in the microwave for minute. “Yeah, thank god. Everyone in my group is an idiot.” She voiced.

Stiles scoffed, “Isn’t everyone an idiot to you?”

“No, but you definitely are.” Lydia jabbed with a smirk on her face. The boy turned to look at her, he had begun noticing that their friendly conversations were morphing into flirtatious banter more and more often. It filled him with hope.

Stiles rubbed the left side of his chest, “You really know how to hit a man where it hurts, Martin.” he joked, “I don’t know how I’ll ever recover from that one.”

The red-head frowned, not appreciating the sarcasm, “Shut up.” She pouted. The boy hated how good she looked doing it.   

“Real mature.” He said condescendingly, the corners of his lips twitching upwards. He didn’t think he would ever get enough of this dynamic between them.

The microwave dinged and Lydia grabbed her dinner. She politely stuck up her free middle finger before crossing the living room, “I’m skyping Allison now. Sorry not sorry that I woke you.” She told him devilishly, opening the door to her room and stepping inside.

She smiled when she heard Stiles’ dramatic gasp moments later, then closed the door behind her.

She sat down on her desk, then simultaneously started eating and video-calling Allison. Her best friend answered the call quickly and Lydia felt a wave of delight buzz through her when she saw the brunette’s smiling face.

“Hey stranger!” Allison greeted her joyously.

For a brief moment, Lydia wanted to cry. She missed her best friend so much sometimes it felt like a physical ache. Seeing her so happy, but unable to hug or laugh with her made her feel a pang of unhappiness deep in her stomach.

The red-head didn’t want to bring the mood down, however, so she pushed the sadness aside and smiled at Allison. “Long time, no see, Ally. How’s everything in New York?” Lydia questioned.

Allison’s smile grew impossibly wider, “It’s so fun, Lyd! Seriously, you have to come visit sometime, you would love it.”

The red-head inwardly cringed when she thought about the money and effort involved in travelling across the country. She looked at the grainy image of her best friend again and resolved that she would consider going in the winter break.

“Well the Instagram pictures look amazing! I can’t wait to hear all about it.” Lydia said excitedly, wanting to know every little detail.

Allison laughed despite neither of them making a joke, she was just feeling that elated. “I can’t wait to tell you everything! But first, do you want to explain your current living situation?!”

Lydia outwardly cringed this time. She wasn’t really sure why she had postponed telling the brunette she’d moved in with Stiles, but apparently even when she was on the other side of the country Allison still managed to find out everything. “Sorry, Ally,” the red-head apologised, “I was going to tell you! I just didn’t know how you were going to feel about him being your ex’s best friend.”

She could see the other girl narrowing her eyes disbelievingly in the lagging video capture, but for whatever reason Allison chose not to say anything about it. “And you’re really getting along?” she asked Lydia.

The red-head shrugged, “Yeah, he’s actually really fun to be around. He’s a good friend too.” She told the brunette honestly.

There was an unreadable expression on her best friend’s face but Lydia didn’t really feel like asking what it was about. Allison would likely say something ridiculous or wrong.

The moment passed and the brunette grinned again. She told the red-head about her big city adventures until the two of them couldn’t stop yawning and decided to call it quits, promising to Skype again within the next week or so.

Lydia was sad to see her best friend’s face disappear on screen, but it only hardened her resolve to see Allison in person sooner rather than later.

The red-head looked at her computer clock and saw that it was almost midnight. When she left her room Stiles wasn’t on the couch, so he must have gone to bed himself. Lydia thought that was a shame, she would’ve liked to tell him to tell Scott to stop telling Allison everything.

 

* * *

 

It was about a month and a half after the pair had moved in together that Stiles finally worked up the courage to ask Lydia the question he’d been dying to ask her this whole time.

He waited until she had finished all of her schoolwork for the week, knowing she had a free weekend and was more likely to say yes. He also cooked her favourite meal, Shepherd’s Pie, for dinner and tried not to talk too much so she would be in a good mood.

It seemed to be working, Stiles was delighted to discover. Lydia had changed into pyjamas and was sitting on the couch, ready to watch TV for the rest of the night. She had a faint smile on her face while she simultaneously tried to pick a good channel and browse Instagram.

“Are you just going to keep standing there and staring at me?” Lydia asked him, not taking her eyes off of her phone.

Stiles jumped in fright then cleared his throat, embarrassed about being caught. He wasn’t even going to try to deny it. The boy crossed the room and stood in front of the television, much to Lydia’s annoyance. He cringed, realising he had probably just ruined her good mood.

The brunette shook his head, it wasn’t time for negative thinking. He needed to come into this with confidence and convince her to say yes without her even realising it. It was game-time.

Stiles inwardly prayed one more time, then spoke timidly, “Do you want to have a Star Wars marathon?”

 _What was that?!_ He thought to himself, disappointed in his execution.

Lydia looked at him for a moment, then scoffed. “No way.” She told him absolutely.

“But why?!” Stiles whined, giving her his best pout.

Lydia sighed at him, clearly exasperated. “Because I’ve never seen it and I don’t intend to. It’s lame.”

Stiles dropped the tantrum act and frowned. “It’s not lame! It’s the most famous sci-fi movie series of all time!” he defended zealously, crushed that she would say such a thing about his favourite franchise.

“I don’t care.” Lydia simply stated. She didn’t seem to be lying

The brunette scowled, trying to figure out what to say to convince her that they really were great movies. He would never admit it to her but he was genuinely hurt that she was so indifferent about something he really, truly loved.

Then Stiles had an idea, maybe he could get through to her pride and vanity instead. Lydia was heaven personified but she certainly wasn’t above the need to prove herself right or show off her intelligence. Nor was he, it was one of the many things he loved about her.

“I bet you can’t guess the greatest cinematic reveal of all time.” He taunted, watching her face closely for a reaction.

All she did was laugh. “I know Darth Vader is Luke’s father, you idiot!” she insulted.

Stiles sighed, ready to give up. There was something off, though, something he couldn’t put his finger on. If she truthfully didn’t care, why would she remember that information? Why would she know the names?

The boy narrowed his eyes at the girl, deciding to test out his theory. “I was talking about the reveal that Anakin and Padme are related but whatever.” He said nonchalantly.

“What?! That’s Luke and Leia, Anakin and Padme are their parents.” Lydia patronized him. After a few moments she realised what she’d done, eyes widening in fear.

Stiles’ grin had never been so wide…nor shit-eating. “I knew it! I knew you’d seen them!”

“Fuck!” Lydia cried, unbelievably frustrated that she’d given away her secret. She’d watched the movies with her dad before the divorce, genuinely enjoying them. However, when she arrived at middle-school the next day to talk to her friends about them she glanced to her side and saw a group of boys wearing merchandise shirts. These boys were complete nerds, the type middle-school Lydia wouldn’t be caught dead talking to or sharing interests with.

She resolved never to tell anyone she had seen Star Wars in that moment.

Lydia sighed once more. At least it was only Stiles that found out. 

The boy smirked at her, “If you do this marathon with me, I won’t tell everybody back in Beacon Hills and everybody here that you’ve seen them.”

The red head put her head in her hands. She took the previous statement back, Stiles was honestly blackmailing her into watching all the Star Wars films. When had her life turned into this ridiculousness?

 

* * *

 

“Why don’t you just ask her out?” The voice on the other end of the phone asked a very pained brunette boy.

“Yeah, Scott, why don’t I just run for president at the same time?” Stiles asked his best friend sarcastically, “Because I know that’ll have the same result.”

It was a Tuesday afternoon and Lydia thankfully wasn’t home. The brunette had called Scott on a whim, desperately needing to vent. Stiles was on edge and had been for the past few days. His feelings towards Lydia were beginning to suffocate him, he felt helpless and tiny compared to her. She was so _big_ , so _full_ , that she encompassed his every thought.

Stiles could never feel any slither of resentment towards the red head, but could certainly feel it towards himself. He was so frustrated with the situation, and with himself for not being able to – to what? He sighed, make her fall for him? He would never be able to make her do anything that she didn’t want to. Her autonomy was ever present and illuminated.

Not that he, even for a second, would want to force her into anything. He knew she wouldn’t love him back no matter how much he simply _willed_ her to. She was Lydia fucking Martin, for crying out loud. She was a genius, a future Fields Medal winner, a hurricane that ate up boys without them ever having a chance to escape, all they could do was decide whether they liked the bumpy ride or not. Stiles was at a standstill. He had never felt so pathetic, with his amateur attempts at flirting and willingness to do literally _anything_ for her, when she had actually forgotten he existed.

He was spat out by the hurricane yet chose to go back in time and time again, always failing to make the landing stick.

The brunette sighed again, he had no chance in hell. “I guess I’ll just try to get over her.” He told Scott miserably, completely aware it would be impossible.

He heard Scott make a sound of disbelief through the phone, “Bro.” he sounded like a mother telling their child they were going to win the art competition even though their painting looked terrible. “You need to stop feeling so sorry for yourself. You’ll never, _ever_ get over Lydia so stop sulking and just do something about it!”

“Like what?!” Stiles asked angrily, knowing without doubt that there was nothing he could do. She was never going to return his feelings.

“Just talk to her.” Scott said softly, “I know it sounds scary, but it’s the best thing you can do. All the cards need to be laid down on the table before anything else can happen.”

The brunette smiled sadly, his best friend always knew what to say. “You’re right, bro,” Stiles admitted, “I’ll try to work up the courage.”

“That’s my boy!” Scott praised him enthusiastically. “Let me know how it goes!”

The two continued talking about nothing too important for the rest of the afternoon. Stiles never liked to talk about it, but he missed his best friend so much sometimes it felt like he was missing a limb. He would have to convince Scott to come visit, maybe then he’d see for himself how hopeless this Lydia situation was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> soooo, there's a bit of an insight into stiles' feelings :))) stuff is about to get real next chapter so stay tuned!! reviews are life <3


	7. The Party

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alright guys just want to put a disclaimer here that malia tate is going to play a MASSIVE part in this story and i love her with every fibre of my being, so i'm never going to make her out to be the bad guy in this story, i hope you guys dont either. I also really dont want any malia hate in the comments because i might just cry so if you're feeling negative things about her, maybe this story isnt for you. just remember that its still a stydia fic and whatever happens with malia isnt going to jeopardise that. anyway go forth and read my sweet summer children

“Does this flannel go with these pants?” Stiles asked Lydia from her bedroom doorway. They were getting ready for one of the many college parties she had been invited too. She usually didn’t go because she didn’t enjoy getting hit on by rowdy, drunk frat boys all night, but her roommate had been complaining all week that he wanted to get smashed and experience a college party. Lydia got so sick of it that she asked the boy who invited her for a plus one and now Stiles was asking her for fashion advice.

The red-head finished putting her second golden hoop in her ear and turned to face the boy, “Ditch the flannel, the white t-shirt is fine.” She advised him.

Stiles nodded and disappeared, she presumed went back to his room to shave or something. Lydia continued getting ready, painting liquid black eyeliner over the base of her eyelid and winging the tip. Now that she was in the moment, she was actually quite excited to go to this party. She hadn’t gotten dressed up or had any alcohol in a while, she’d forgotten she enjoyed the anticipation.

Once she had finished getting ready, Lydia gathered her purse and walked out of her room. She was wearing a short black dress with heeled knee-high boots, her hair was straightened and hung past her waist.

When Stiles came out into the living room and saw her, he had to pretend to he left something in his room and turn around to catch his breath. She looked fucking gorgeous. How did she expect him to function around her when she looked like that? He needed to get grip on himself. He was hopelessly in love with Lydia, but she was still a normal human being, and if he didn’t turn around soon she would start wondering why he was acting so weird.

The boy swivelled to face her, “You ready to go?” he asked. He couldn’t help but avert eyes, feeling like looking straight at her would be like looking at the sun.

Her voice sounded slightly concerned when she answered him, “Yeah, I’m ready. Are you okay?”

Stiles swallowed and forced himself to make eye-contact with her, he nodded and they began exiting the apartment.

They had decided to catch the bus to the festivities because both of them wanted to drink, and if they were drunk on the way home, the walk wouldn’t feel so long. They were on the bus for ten minutes, and Lydia felt out of place but soon enough they were walking through the campus. When they approached the entrance of the fraternity house the pair could feel the bass reverberating through the wooden porch beneath their feet. The party was in full swing.

The red-head sauntered up to the boy standing by the door and got her and Stiles’ names ticked off. The brunette’s jaw ticked when he saw her slowly smile at the nameless boy and place her left hand on his bicep. The door boy raked his eyes up and down her form appreciatively and leaned towards her, placing a hand on her waist and whispering something in her ear. Lydia giggled and kissed him on the cheek before turning to Stiles and beckoning him forward.

She took the brunette’s hand and led him inside after yelling a thank you to the other boy.

“What was that all about?” Stiles asked her, trying to keep the jealously out of his voice. He knew she wouldn’t appreciate it.

The red-head grinned, “Guess who just scored us free drinks!” she exclaimed animatedly, continuing to lead him through the house and the mass of teenagers. Stiles was annoyed at himself for feeling relief that she was only flirting with that guy just to get something out of him. She was going to hook up with someone at some point and he needed to come to terms with it, he needed to be able to act like it didn’t affect him.

When she let go of his hand they were standing in the basement of the frat house, looking at a room full of boys playing beer pong.

“This is the free alcohol?!” Stiles leaned down to question her quietly.

Lydia smacked his arm, “Hey, beggars can’t be choosers!” she admonished him with a frown on her face before striding to the middle of the room. Once she had nearly everyone’s attention, she tilted her chin upward confidently and spoke, “Who wants to be on my team?”

Stiles laughed when most of the hands in the room shot up to the ceiling, he had forgotten what a sight it was when Lydia was in her element amongst horny teenage boys. Once the teams had been picked, Stiles was standing next to a dude-bro named Chad who was already pretty plastered and Lydia was on the opposite end of the table, teamed up with an athletic boy named Greg.

Lydia’s aim was pretty good and she certainly made Stiles and Chad down a few beers, but it was Greg who carried the game. He hardly missed and told them all he was straight edge, so Lydia had to drink every cup that the other team landed the ball in. By the time the pair left the basement, they were both feeling buzzed. Lydia especially.

Just before they reached the dancefloor, the red-head stopped suddenly and hugged a boy leaning on the living room wall. “Logan!” she shouted excitedly, “What are you doing here?!”

The boy smiled at her, standing up a little straighter. “Hey, Lydia! I was invited by one of the guys who lives here because he wants help with his math homework. I definitely wasn’t expecting to see you here.” He told her with an edge of nervousness.

Stiles wanted to stay with Lydia but their conversation was beginning digress into mathematics and he was not drunk enough for that. Plus he currently was just standing there and staring at them like an idiot.

He pitched forward and touched the small of the red-head’s back to get her attention. She turned around and looked at him expectantly, “I’m going to find more drinks, text me if you need me.” He offered.

“Okay.” She replied, then smiled at him before turning back to Logan.

Stiles nodded to himself and set off towards the edge of the dancefloor, where another frat boy wearing a tank top that read ‘ _I’m not gay, but $20 is $20_ ’ was standing next to a few kegs.

The brunette swallowed his distaste and strode up to the boy. “How much for a cup?” He asked him.

The keg-guarder turned his attention away from two girls dancing together a few feet in front of him and looked at Stiles. “Five bucks, bro.” He answered, with a grin.

Stiles asked for two and paid the boy ten dollars. He skulled the first beer while he skirted the dance floor then sipped the second one slowly, not wanting to get too drunk too fast. He looked back over to where Lydia had been standing and saw she was still talking to Logan. They looked like they were standing closer together, the brunette noticed with a pang of jealousy and hurt deep in his stomach.

He was so preoccupied trying to figure out the red-head’s body language that he wasn’t watching where he was walking. He slammed into a solid object, spilling beer all over himself. He looked up at what he had walked into and saw a girl stumbling backwards, trying to not spill anymore of her own beer.

“Jesus!” she cried, finally catching her balance and glaring accusingly at Stiles, “Have you ever heard of the concept of watching where you’re going?!”

The brunette stared at her dumbly for a moment before kick-starting into action. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry! Here let me get you another drink.” He apologised, grabbing the almost empty cup out of her hand.

He was completely soaked with beer but he didn’t really care, all he wanted to do was buy this girl a drink and try to make up for being such a complete asshole. Once he bought another beer from offensive-tank-top-guy he quickly returned to the girl, passing her the cup and apologising again.

She sighed, trying to wipe the excess liquid off of her clothes. “It’s okay,” she forgave him, “at least you bought me another drink. Most of the guys in here wouldn’t even say sorry.”

Stiles gave the girl a subtle once-over. She was tall and tan with short dark hair. She had impossibly long legs and an obvious _don’t fuck with me_ attitude, her eyes were big and brown and he felt like he could easily sink into them.

She was undeniably attractive.

The boy cleared his throat and stuck his hand out, “I’m Stiles, and I just want to apologise again for bumping into you.”

The girl gave him a lopsided smile and returned the hand shake, “I’m Malia, and I forgive you.” She told him.

The pair began to talk at the edge of the living room, mostly making fun of frat boys and interesting dance moves. The alcohol had truly begun to hit Stiles mid-way through their conversation, he couldn’t remove the relaxed smile from his face and his fingertips were tingling. Everything Malia said seemed to be exciting to him, he couldn’t quite tell if she was on the same level as him but she looked just as happy to be keeping him company.

Stiles hadn’t realised that the two had been gradually moving closer together until he looked down and saw his right hand sitting on her waist, the other arm was leant against the wall. Malia’s face was a few inches away from his and her hand was softly running up and down his torso. It was tantalising.

It hit him hard and fast that they were about to kiss. He inwardly panicked, he hadn’t kissed anyone since a few brief ‘relationships’ with various girls while he was travelling with Scott. He hadn’t felt the urge to do anything with anyone since Lydia had entered his life again and turned his brain into unintelligibility.

He couldn’t think straight with the alcohol flowing through his veins and Malia’s hand on the side of his neck. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to kiss her. What if Lydia saw? What if it made her jealous?!

Stiles rethought he previous statement, maybe he did want to kiss her.

It was now or never, all he had to do was lean in and touch his lips to Malia’s pretty –

“Stiles!”

The boy turned around at the interruption and saw Lydia bouncing towards him. It looked like she’d somehow gotten more drinks while he was gone, she seemed less coherent than earlier.

Stiles heard Malia make a noise of protest behind him but he couldn’t bring his attention away from the red-head. She stumbled into him, her depth perception clearly skewed. The brunette grabbed her by the elbows and tried to hold her steady but all she did was take his hands and start pulling him away from the wall.

“Let’s dance!” she suggested with bright eyes, Stiles was unable to do anything but let her drag him into the throng of bodies. He looked back and saw Malia standing at the wall looking confused and dejected. He cringed and offered her an apologetic glance, knowing that that would’ve hurt, but Lydia was relentless.

As soon as they stopped somewhere in the middle of the mob of gyrating teenagers the song changed and the red-head started dancing. The boy watched her dumbly, the alcohol was still coursing through him, making him feel light headed. Lydia looked at him with confusion before she grabbed his hands again and drew him impossibly closer to her.

Stiles couldn’t breathe. She put her arms around his neck, starting to sway her hips to the music. Her head tipped back and there was a lazy smile on her face. The brunette swallowed dryly then put his hands on her waist, her back was so small that his middle fingers were touching.

He let himself get lost it the thumping bass of the music, closing his eyes and focusing on all the different sensations. Every time Lydia moved a certain way her stomach brushed up against Stiles’ pelvis and he felt a rush all throughout his body, heart pounding. She turned around slowly, and let her ass bump up against the boy’s crotch, hands staying around his neck. The brunette gripped her stomach and squeezed his fingers over her ribs.

This was really happening. Stiles honestly felt like he could pass out, the heady scent of the sweaty bodies around him and the feeling of the red-head pressing against him was overwhelming his senses.

He was about to hook up with Lydia Martin. He couldn’t believe it, after all these years of build-up and misery, he was finally going to get some action at a frat party. The boy smiled to himself, mind still reeling from the alcohol and the prospect of getting anywhere with the red-head.

Stiles opened his mouth to tell her she looked beautiful, moving like that, but he realised that the music would be too loud to hear anything. Maybe they should go somewhere a bit quieter.

The brunette turned Lydia around and took her hand, she followed him outside into the backyard with no complaints, stumbling slightly as she walked. Once the pair found an empty patch of wall the red-head leaned her back against it and Stiles put an elbow above her, letting his face sit just inches from hers.

Lydia’s head lolled around on for neck for a moment before she looked up at the boy, the lazy smile was still on her face.

 _It was now or ever_ , Stiles thought. He leaned forward, closing the gap between their lips.

The second his mouth touched hers, Lydia flew backwards so fast her head smacked against the wall behind her. “Ow!” She cried, rubbing the back of her skull. She looked up the boy, “What the fuck are you doing?!”

Stiles’ mouth hung ajar, unable to comprehend what had just happened. She seemed more sober than before. “I was kissing you?” He couldn’t make it sound like anything other than a question.

“Why?” The red-head asked angrily, placing her hands on his chest and gently pushing him away from her.

The brunette was beyond confused, seconds ago she was dancing suggestively against him and now she looked positively livid. He opened his mouth to begin back-pedalling but closed it again, red-hot anger poked at him, why did he need to apologise? She was giving him signs. “Because it seemed like you wanted it!” he accused her.

Lydia looked closely at Stiles’ face, not wanting the situation to get out of hand. She saw the obvious signs of anger at the surface, behind that she saw the embarrassment of being rejected when he really seemed so sure, but even further beyond that she saw hurt. He was shattered but he was trying to hide it.

She felt sympathy for him, but she was still so angry. The red-head was unable to work out the real reason why, her alcohol addled brained was hardly able to string a coherent thought together. “I’m drunk!” she tried to excuse herself to him, “I was just having fun.”

Stiles stepped away from her and rubbed a hand over his face, letting out a sharp exhale of frustration. “You must know, Lydia,” he began, pinning her with a sharp gaze, “you have to know.”

Lydia frowned, “Know what?” she asked venomously. She didn’t need to ask though, she knew where this was going.

The boy moved his hands frantically, irritation erupting out of him. “About my feelings for you!” he barked. He wasn’t going say the L-word just yet, he had already embarrassed himself enough.

Lydia flinched and suddenly wanted to cry. She knew why she was feeling so unreasonably angry at him before. It was this pattern that kept repeating itself. It was boys that she befriended, boys she felt platonically about, then sooner or later they tried to make a move or told her they liked her and when she said she wasn’t interested they got so embarrassed and offended that they couldn’t continue being friends with her.

She was always left alone, for what? Not wanting to sleep with her friends? It was unfair. The red-head’s lower lip trembled, why was this happening again?

She knew, though, of course she knew. Stiles’ feelings towards her had always been so ridiculously obvious, but she thought he’d valued her friendship too much to jeopardise anything.

Lydia stepped towards him, “Stiles, please,” she pleaded, gritting her teeth in an attempt not to cry, “don’t do this.”

Stiles retreated from her advance hurriedly, he still seemed so _angry_. “Do what? See through that front you put up for everyone and still love the person behind it?!”

The brunette mentally kicked himself, there goes the L-word. No chance of bringing this back now.

Lydia clenched her fists, still chasing his receding steps and feeling a choking amount of desperation to regain control of this situation before it was irreparable. “Don’t _ruin_ this!” she implored, voice thick with the sensation she always got at the back of her throat before she cried. “I like you, Stiles! As a friend, nothing more. I’m sorry but I just don’t feel that way about you, please, _please_ , just stop talking about feelings and we can pretend this never happened!”

Stiles’ laugh was a short, humourless sound, “No fucking way, Lydia. I can’t co-exist with you and just pretend that everything you do doesn’t make me want to spontaneously combust. Do you honestly think I can just – just _know_ you and not love you with every fibre of my being?!”

The resentment in his tone was almost tangible. The red-head covered her ears childishly, “Stop talking!” she urged. A few fat, hot tears were squeezed out of the corners of her eyes, and she was so frustrated that she’d cried in front of him that even more spilled over the edge.

Stiles’ anger seemed to evaporate at the sight of her tears. “Lydia...” was all he said, voice weak and filled with so much pity that the red-head couldn’t stay there any longer.

Lydia turned and fled back into the house, leaving Stiles standing there by himself, on the verge of a panic attack. He fucked up. He fucked up so monumentally that he couldn’t possibly _imagine_ fixing anything that came out of tonight.

The brunette focused on breathing deeply for a few minutes, hands shaking as he ran them through his hair. He tried to push the incident out of his mind and resolved to let himself feel the aftermath when he was sober. For that, he needed more alcohol.

Stiles walked back into the house, kicking himself when he realised he was still subconsciously looking for the petite red-head. He bought three more beers from a different keg stand guy than before and skulled them in quick succession. He was sure he was going to regret that in the morning, but right now he couldn’t care less.

He staggered towards the dancefloor, beers hitting him quicker than he’d anticipated. The brunette was about to enter the mass of bodies when he saw the tall, bronze girl he was ripped away from earlier talking to one of the frat boys.

Stiles wanted to openly rejoice from relief, it was fucking perfect. He just needed to get Lydia’s face out of his head for a few blissful hours. He wanted to purge any thought of her from his mind with a desperation that surprised him. He thought he would never feel any resentment towards the red-head but he was so wrong. He couldn’t conceivably describe the ill, uneasy feeling that hit him in full force when he reminded himself of their argument.

He strode towards Malia with a divine sense of purpose. When he reached her, the boy softly grabbed her upper arm, waiting until she turned around before putting his hands on either side of her neck and connecting their lips.

She pulled away almost immediately. “What the hell?” she asked heatedly, but she let him kiss her again.

Stiles ran his hand down the sides of her toned arms before hazily opening his mouth, “Do you want to come home with me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sooooo that was intense right?? lemme know what y'all think, i really enjoyed writing this chapter :))) reviews are life <3


	8. The Morning After

Lydia’s eyes cracked open slowly as she realised her head was pounding, the sunlight seemed to have a direct line to the nerves behind her eyebrows. This is why she hardly drank; the red-head was a long time sufferer of lethal hangovers.

She groaned and rubbed her eyes with the heels of her palms, not wanting to move or do anything ever again. Lydia stared up at the ceiling as the events of the previous night slowly came back to her. She bolted upright when she remembered its brutal climax.

 _Oh god!_ Her mind screamed as she recalled her fight with Stiles. His confession. Her cowardice.

Lydia swore every curse word she could remember under her breath vehemently. How the fuck was she going to fix this?

She struggled to recollect every detail of the conversation but Stiles’ intense declaration and explosive anger replayed themselves vividly in her mind. Tears pricked at the red-head’s eyes, she was terrified that she had messed this up. They were becoming such good friends and she was just beginning to be comfortable around him, now he probably never wanted to see her again.

She needed to apologise. Even though on some level she didn’t feel particularly bad for dancing with him, and admittedly leading him on, she needed to swallow her pride for the sake of this relationship. It was important to her, and she didn’t even want to think about having to find a new roommate.

Lydia resolved to make things right with Stiles, she would apologise sincerely and if he didn’t take to that she would get on her knees and grovel. If that didn’t work she was basically fucked.

The red-head swallowed the disgusting taste in her mouth and stood up. The world tipped on its edge for a moment before righting itself and she began getting dressed. She realised she had only slept in her underwear, as a memory of coming home with dried tears on her face and stumbling through the front door played in her mind.

She really shouldn’t have let herself get so drunk.

Lydia walked out of her bedroom and straight to the bathroom, peeing and brushing her teeth twice for good measure. When she got to the kitchen she immediately put a pot of coffee on the stove and began rummaging through the fridge and pantry. She figured making Stiles breakfast would sweeten her apology.

If she listened hard enough the red-head could hear soft voices coming from the boy’s bedroom. Maybe he was talking to Scott on skype.

As soon as Lydia had poured her whisked eggs into the frying pan Stiles emerged from his bedroom, looking worse for wear. He had surely had much more to drink after the red-head left the party, she must have been fast asleep he came home because she couldn’t remember hearing anything indicating what time it was.

The brunette was wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt. His eyes were scrunched up, seemingly trying to avoid the sunlight. They were dark circles underneath them as well and Lydia knew that he wouldn’t have gotten much sleep.

Stiles seemed startled when he laid his eyes on her in the kitchen and his eyes flickered back to his bedroom door, like he wasn’t expecting to face her ever again. But Lydia had never been the type of person to shy away from confronting her problems and she wasn’t going to let the awkwardness stop her now.

“Hey Stiles,” she greeted him with a tight smile, she couldn’t help but feel nervous, “eggs?”

The brunette frowned, considering it for a moment before lurching forward and sitting down at the dining table. “Please,” he begged her, “I feel like I’ve been hit with a tow-truck.”

The red-head nodded solemnly and lifted her scrambled eggs onto two pieces of toast. “You and me both.” She agreed quietly, not wanting to act like everything was completely normal just yet.

Once they both had a plate of eggs in front of them on opposite sides of the table and Lydia was feeling considerably better with some food in her stomach, she put down her fork and cleared her throat.

Stiles visibly froze. He knew she wouldn’t have let it go without saying anything but when he saw her making breakfast for him he had begun hoping. “Yes?” he asked, voice small.

The red-head breathed deeply for a moment before looking him in the eyes, “I think we need to talk about what happened last night.” She told him frankly. There was a pause.

“I’m sorry –“

“I lied –“

They both spoke at the same time.

“What did you say?” Lydia asked him, mouth turned down and brows furrowed.

Stiles swallowed and looked sheepish. “I lied.” He repeated, “When I said….what I said, I was lying.”

The red-head was taken aback, “You were lying?”

“Yeah,” the boy began, his movements were jerky, like he wanted nothing more than to be away from this table, away from her piercing glare, “I was drunk! You know what happens when you get drunk…you feel lov – _affection_ for people so much more than you normally would.”

Lydia suddenly wanted to cry again. Why the _fuck_ would he tell her he loved her if he didn’t mean it? Why would he make her feel so terrible? She wasn’t even sure she believed that he was lying, what if he was just embarrassed?

The red-head put her elbows on the table and leaned forward, watching Stiles’ face closely for any kind of reaction. “So you don’t…have feelings for me?” she asked evenly.

As soon as the boy opened his mouth to speak his bedroom door was yanked opened and Lydia turned around to see a girl walking out of it. It was that girl from last night, she realised, the leggy stunner that she had dragged Stiles away from.

 _Fuck_.

They came home together, she surmised with a cold feeling settling low in her stomach. Well the brunette clearly didn’t have very strong feelings for her if he had a one-night stand.

The girl was wearing one of Stiles’ t-shirts, one of Lydia’s favourites actually. She wore it once when her laundry was taking too long and it smelled homely and comforting and _boyish_. Why did she feel so…humiliated? So rejected?

It was a kick in the chin, realising she was utterly replaceable to the boy. She could admit that she definitely didn’t hate his attention.

Stiles scrutinized Lydia’s face, waiting for a slight indication of what she was feeling. He and Malia hadn’t slept together because she was still angry at him for ditching her and very adamantly told him where he could shove his sense of entitlement. She wasn’t indifferent to his charms however, and could see he was clearly upset about something. She was sure it involved the red-head sitting at the table, staring at her like she’d grown a second head, but Malia felt bad for the boy so they did fool around a bit.

Lydia’s expression didn’t really give Stiles anything. She looked shocked, but that could simply be because she didn’t think anyone else was home. The boy was annoyed at himself for still hoping for some sort of reaction, this was the perfect scenario to see if the red-head would get jealous over him but she clearly wasn’t.

Stiles sighed. He needed to get over her quickly and completely, and like the cliché went, the best way to do that was to get under someone else. He was going to make sure he got Malia’s number.

“This is Malia,” Stiles gestured to the short-haired girl, then swung his arm around to face the red-head, “this is Lydia.”

Lydia snapped herself out of her shock. This was good! She still felt slightly miffed about the emotional turmoil she’d been going through for the last twelve hours ending up being unnecessary, but this was what she wanted. If Stiles didn’t have feelings for her then they would be able to continue being friends and more importantly, live together in harmony.

The red-head beamed, “Hi! Do you want some eggs?”

Malia looked confused, unsure why the girl was so enthusiastic towards her, but it was better than being looked down upon. “Sure thing, thank you.” She answered, smiling at Lydia.

Stiles was uncertain how to feel. He was glad there was no animosity between the two, but he also wasn’t satisfied with the lack of negative feelings from Lydia. He had to stop thinking she cared about him as much as he cared about her, if she didn’t return his feelings why would it matter to her?

After the three had finished their pleasant breakfast, Lydia returned to her room.

“I should probably go soon,” Malia told him, rinsing her plate in the sink, “I have tutoring at twelve.”

Stiles joined her in the kitchen, beginning the rest of the dishes. “Okay, hey um Malia….” He began awkwardly.

Why was he so fucking _not_ smooth.

The tanned girl turned around and patiently raised an eyebrow at him.

“Do you want to hang out again?” He forced out, scratching the back of his neck.

Malia smiled, “Sure, just text me or something.”

Lydia smiled from her bedroom, hearing the whole exchange. They were so awkward it was cute. She still needed to process the whole situation, unsure how she _really_ felt about the whole thing, but first she wanted to celebrate the fact that she wasn’t going to have to find a new roommate. She reluctantly admitted to herself that she would really miss Stiles’ company if he left as well, he made her laugh.

The red-head began making her way to the bathroom for a shower. Everything was okay, Stiles didn’t like her and she didn’t alienate every single person she knew.

Lydia laughed to herself quietly and shook her head, maybe there really was an upside to everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry its been so long since an update!!! i've been crazy busy with uni and its not letting up any time soon but im still in love with this story so i'll try my best to be kind of regular. Sorry if a few of you are unsatisfied with how everything was resolved but dont fear!! its still very early days in this slow burn fic, and i think you'll like whats coming :)))) reviews are life <3 <3


	9. The Visit

“Does my hair look okay?” Stiles asked Lydia for the fifth time, running his hands through his perfectly spiked mop repeatedly.

The red-head sighed, “Yes, Stiles, it looks perfectly adequate. Now can you stop asking me that.” She implored, “For the love of God…”

Stiles scrunched his nose at her, “Whatever.” He muttered.

He was beyond nervous; this was the big night, the night he had been excitedly yet anxiously waiting for. This night meant everything to him.

The intercom dinged and Stiles predictably flailed around for a second before collecting himself and walking to the source of the noise. He pressed the entry button and paced in front of the doorway until he could hear footsteps on the other side of the wall. 

Lydia simultaneously wanted to laugh and roll her eyes. He was so nervous it was kind of cute but it was starting to get tiring, he was trying so hard to be impressive for when their guest arrived that his anxiety levels had sky-rocketed. Unfortunately, the red-head had to deal with the multitude of break-downs.

_Here we go_ , Lydia thought to herself exasperatedly when there was an enthusiastic knock on the door. Stiles yanked it open faster than she had ever seen a human move and revealed a smiling boy standing behind it.

“Scotty!” Stiles boomed, enveloping Scott with an impossible amount of fervour. Lydia sneered from the kitchen and decided to roll her eyes after all, they looked like a reunited couple, disgustingly in love.

The red-head had met Scott before while he was still dating Allison but she’d never let it go past a few brief conversations. She knew it was petty but Ally would spend all of her time with him so she grew to resent the boy. She knew how completely attached Stiles was to him, however, so maybe she would try to make an effort this weekend.

The boys walked into the living room with identical grins of their faces and she had to admit it was slightly endearing. Stiles gestured between Scott and Lydia, “I know you two have already met but for good measure, Lydia meet Scott.” He introduced them.

The red-head fought the urge to roll her eyes again and exhaled harder than normal. _Patience_ , she told herself, willing her mouth not to verbally berate the brunette.

Scott smiled angelically at her, reaching towards her with an outstretched hand. “Nice to see you again, Lydia.” He told her.

Lydia couldn’t resist her lips twitching upwards in return but she forced her expression to stay neutral, she couldn’t let him win her over in the first five minutes. “Likewise,” was all she said in response, “what are you two going to do tonight?”

Stiles bounced on the balls on his feet a couple of times excitedly, “I’m taking him to _Joe’s_!” he told her. _Joe’s_ was the most popular bar on campus, Lydia rarely went because it was a bit grimy and _always_ full of drunk college students, but the brunette seemed to find it charming. “You can come if you want.” He offered after a beat.

The red-head wouldn’t have minded going, seeing as it was a Friday night, but she could tell the boy just wanted to spend some alone time with his best friend. “I have heaps of homework to do,” she lied, “but have fun.”

Stiles smiled at her then he took Scott’s bag and situated it in his room. Once they were ready, the boys yelled a goodbye to her and chattered all the way out the front door.

Lydia sighed when she was finally alone. This was going to be a long weekend.

 

* * *

 

“So you tried to kiss her?!” Scott asked Stiles disbelievingly. The brunette was in the process of catching him up on the previous weekend, but it was hard not to make himself look like an asshole.

Even though he technically had been an asshole.

“Tried and _failed_. Key word there.” Stiles emphasised, “She couldn’t have been more offended if I’d defiled her grandmother.”

Scott stopped walking and squinted at him, “Gross, bro.” he said disgustedly.

The brunette cringed, giving Scott an apologetic wave of his hand. They arrived at _Joe’s_ and joined the queue of college students waiting outside the door, pulling their IDs out of their pockets. Luckily the bouncers didn’t really care how old your ID said you were, if you had one; you got in.

“Look,” Stiles began, “the point is I fucked up. Big time. But Lydia seems to want to move past it, so I’m going to as well. Plus, I may have found a different girl...”

The boys reached the front of line and were let in by the two bouncers before Scott reacted. “A girl?!” he cried once they walked into the crowded bar.

They found a small table right near the back corner and Scott sat down on one of the grubby seats. Stiles pulled a twenty out of his pocket then put his stuff on the other chair. “Yeah, a real life girl.” He joked, then wandered over to the bar with the intention of buying two pints of beer.

Once the alcohol had been purchased, Stiles slowly made his way back to the table and placed one of the drinks in front of his best-friend. “Tell me about her!” Scott demanded as soon as the other boy had sat down.

“Jesus, okay!” Stiles agreed, Scott was never able to keep calm when anything involved his love life. “I met her at the disastrous party last week, her name’s Malia and we may have….kissed a little.” he told the black-haired boy, wagging his eyebrows.

Scott did what he thought was a subtle fist pump. “So did you get her number?” he asked his best friend.    

Stiles nodded and took a sip of his lager. “Of course, man!” he answered, “I actually asked her if she wanted to meet up with us later…if that’s okay?”

Scott nodded vigorously in reply, “So what about Lydia?” he questioned the brunette.

Stiles sighed and started playing with all the items on the table, arranging and rearranging them. “I don’t know, buddy. I obviously still love her but I don’t think she’ll ever reciprocate. I think I just need to spend more time with Malia to try to forget about her.” He told Scott sadly.

The black-haired boy frowned for a moment before quickly masking it. “Look, bro,” he began, “I think you should try to get over Lydia if it keeps hurting you but…don’t forget that Malia’s a person. She has feelings and probably really likes you. Don’t hurt her.”

Stiles took a dangerously large swig of his beer and nodded. He knew Scott was right, he was lucky Malia even forgave him for being such an ass at the party. He resolved to try his best not to hurt her feelings and simultaneously push the red-head out of his every waking thought. At least now he had someone to call if he was starting to see too much of Lydia.

The boys both chugged the rest of their drinks and headed out to the dancefloor after that, forgetting about girls and just feeling ecstatic to be in each other’s company again.

Maybe if none of this Lydia-Malia stuff worked out, Stiles could marry Scott instead. They’d have beautiful children.

 

* * *

 

Lydia wanted to jump off of her second story balcony, it wouldn’t kill her but even a few weeks in hospital would be better than this.

Stiles had to go and pick up their Chinese food because _apparently_ they were too busy to deliver on a Saturday night and so Lydia was here, sitting silently opposite Scott, convincing herself not to bash her head on the dining table.  

The red-head forced herself to smile tightly at the boy, who returned it with a toothy grin, seemingly oblivious to her current mood. She pursed her lips and started playing with the take-out menu, willing him not to talk to her.

If he asked about Allison she was literally going to get up and leave.

Thankfully, when Scott cleared his throat before speaking, her best friend’s name didn’t make an appearance. “So what are you studying at UCLA?” he asked her, maintaining eye contact and looking genuinely interested.

_Be nice!_ Lydia scalded herself. She truly had no reason to dislike him, other than him stealing Allison away from her when they were dating, but they weren’t together anymore. He was also Stiles’ best friend and that had to mean something. She trusted her roommate’s judge of character.

The red-head stilled her hands, “I’m double majoring in Pure Mathematics and Biochemistry.” She informed him.

Scott raised an eyebrow and nodded at her, seemingly impressed. “How long is your course?” he questioned.

“Four years.” Lydia answered immediately, leaning forward slightly and folding her arms across the table.

He continued to ask her questions about her course and family back in Beacon Hills, absorbing each answer attentively. The red-head quickly lost herself in the conversation and found that she was enjoying talking to him. It flowed easily even with no mention of Allison, Stiles was clearly onto something here. Lydia had to give props to Scott, he had successfully won her over in about five minutes. She regretted not getting to know him sooner, but she still thought her resolve was weak.

Before the pair knew it, Stiles was struggling through the front door with an obscene amount of Chinese take-out. They rushed to help him and started setting up in front of the TV with plates of noodles and chopsticks.

Stiles narrowed his eyes at their suddenly comfortable conversation but chose not to say anything. He knew Lydia couldn’t resist Scotty’s absolutely angelic qualities for long. Maybe the three of them could even hang out when his best friend visited again.

The red-head connected her laptop to the television and put on the most recent episodes of The Walking Dead because Scott hadn’t caught up yet. She had a few reservations about eating whilst watching zombies getting brained, but she was sitting in between the boys, and she felt too much affection for them right now to complain about anything.

After a couple more episodes and a million more dumb comments made by the resident idiots, the three of them were ready for bed. Lydia said goodnight to the both of them once they had done the dishes and retired to her room.

The boys brushed their teeth and climbed into Stiles’ double bed, both painfully aware that this visit was coming to an end.

“Bro,” Scott whispered after Stiles had turned the lamp out, “I really like Lydia.”

The brunette stifled a laugh, grinning at his best friend in the dark. “You trying to steal my girl?” he teased quietly.

Scott smiled, “No you idiot. I mean I like her personality, you guys really seem to get along. I know what I said about hurting Malia but I don’t think you should give up on Lydia just yet. She seems to really enjoy your company.” He told the other boy.

“We’re just friends.” Stiles replied immediately, he recently made himself start repeating that sentence in his head like a mantra. It helped him with moving on, convincing himself that there was a zero percent chance of anything happening. “I can’t risk what I have with Malia when I know Lydia doesn’t have feelings for me.”

Scott looked disappointed for a moment. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” He agreed for the sake of it, “Malia’s awesome anyway, you two would be great together.”

Stiles wrapped an arm around his best friend, hit with a wave of love for the boy. Scott was honestly the best thing he ever could have asked for, no matter what happened in his life, Stiles would have this complete ray of sunshine in it. For that he was truly lucky.

“I love you, Scotty.” He whispered, kissing the boy on the forehead and turning over.

“I love you too.” Scott told him after a beat, Stiles could hear the smile in his voice.

 

* * *

 

On Sunday evening, after an emotional goodbye at the airport, Stiles returned to his apartment. He needed a pick-me-up…desperately.

Lydia walked out of her room and saw him furiously typing out a text at the kitchen bench, looking lonely. She lurched forward when she thought of the perfect thing to cheer him up, making her way over to the kitchen on short legs.

“So!” the red-head exclaimed, slamming her hands down on the bench and giving Stiles a hell of a fright.

“Jesus!” He cried, clutching his chest. “What?!”

Lydia backed up a bit, realising she may have come on a little strong. “Sorry,” she apologised, “but I think I know what will save you from Scott withdrawals!”

Stiles eyed her disbelievingly, not knowing if anything could do that right now. “I’m listening...” He drawled.

“Star Wars marathon!” Lydia answered animatedly, beaming like an excited child. “Tonight, let’s do it.”

The boy’s shoulders sagged. “Lydia,” he began, looking at her with pity, “I’m so sorry but I _just_ made plans with Malia for tonight.”

The red-head’s smile faded and she took a step back from the bench. She wasn’t sure why that felt so much like a punch in the gut but she couldn’t help the humiliation slowly spreading through her veins. She hated feeling rejected, even if it was for something small like this. Every time she was told no she got so prickly and defensive. It was a bad personality trait and she was painfully aware of it

Still though, this was Stiles, and she didn’t want to give him any indication that she was upset about this, because he would likely do something stupid. Like try to apologise and just end up patronising her.

“Oh,” Lydia said, taking a subtle deep breath, “maybe another time then.”

She tried to smile but she knew it looked like a grimace.

Stiles couldn’t keep the cringing expression off of his face. “We could all watch it tonight.” he offered, trying and failing to make her feel better.

Lydia wanted to reach over and shake his broad shoulders. Why the hell would he suggest that? She thought that Star Wars marathons were their _thing_ , but apparently not. The red-head had still only met Malia once, that hideously awkward morning after the party, and had no ill feelings towards the girl but hated the thought of her and Stiles watching Star Wars together, probably making out and not even paying attention.

She knew she was being immature but she didn’t care, Stiles and Malia could find their own traditions. “Oh no, it’s alright!” she told him with an airy wave of her hand, “We can just do it another night. You two have fun with whatever you decide.”

_Good God,_ Lydia mentally chastised herself while she made a hasty retreat. Once she had closed her bedroom door behind she put her head in her hands.

She felt so fucking uncomfortable that she never wanted to see another human being for at least a week.

Later that night, when she heard Malia coming in through the front door, she put her headphones on. Maybe it was petty, but if they actually were going to watch Star Wars together, she didn’t want to hear it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heyyoooo its scotty m!! my baby! hope you guys liked this chapter, lydia's clearly starting to feel a little left behind >:) but never fear, this stydia train is going full speed ahead :)))) reviews are life <3


	10. The Second Party

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> things are getting a lil naughty ;))

Lydia cringed when she heard Malia enter the apartment through her bedroom door, it was the third time in four days and the red-head was beginning to find it annoying. She still refused to feel any kind of resentment towards the stunning brunette, in fact they were starting to get along pretty well these days, but she couldn’t keep denying she was a little bit jealous.

She quickly shook her head, no, not _jealous_ , not of their relationship. She was jealous of all the time Malia had with Stiles. Lydia hardly saw him these days, and when she did she couldn’t help acting distant. Hypothetically speaking, it could be because she was a little hurt by the shift in his priorities, but that was only _hypothetical_ , she told herself sternly. Maybe she just missed his dumb jokes, or that look he got in his eyes when she accidentally did something stupid.

Lydia frowned, reminding herself for the umpteenth time this week to stop thinking of Stiles so unusually fondly. It made her sad, and she hated feeling left behind.

The red-head pursed her lips and swallowed any lingering feelings of uneasiness then stood up. She supposed she should say hi to the pair she could hear moving about in the lounge room.

Lydia opened her bedroom door and exited her room, spotting Malia lying on the couch, throwing grapes at a flailing Stiles. He was in the kitchen, unsuccessfully ducking most of the flying fruit.

The red-head let herself smile at the pair’s antics. She couldn’t deny that they complemented each other quite well. Stiles was nervous and tactful, where Malia was bold and direct but they were also both quite relaxed at times, especially about academic things. Things Lydia thought they should really be more concerned about, but she never said anything. It wasn’t her business after all.

Lydia walked over to the bench and managed to catch one of the grapes on a direct path to her forehead.

“Nice!” Malia praised as the red-head popped the small fruit into her mouth.

“As if you caught that.” Stiles skulked, upset that he was still being pelted.

Lydia went to punch him in the arm as a greeting but stopped herself at the last minute. She probably shouldn’t touch him so much nowadays, especially not in front of Malia, it was a habit she shouldn’t have let form in the first place. She hid the gesture by running that hand through her hair and smirked, “I am pretty awesome.” She told them modestly.

Stiles grinned at her and picked up one of the many grapes that were littering the floor, tossing it up once in his hand before throwing it at Lydia with all of his strength.

It hit her square in the chest and she cried out in pain, then picked up a handful of grapes herself and swore vengeance on the boy under her breath.

“You’re a dick!” Lydia yelled at him, while continuously hurling pieces of fruit in his general direction. Her aim wasn’t particularly good as she was worked up but Stiles seemed to be retreating so it didn’t stop her.

When she got close enough to him the red-head began kicking his shins, not hard enough to really hurt him but not soft enough to tickle. Once all the grapes had been thrown she started pushing at his chest as well, unable to wipe the smile from her face.

Stiles’ upper thighs hit the edge of the sink and he realised he was trapped. It was time to use his strength and towering height against her. When Lydia swung her arm out to push him again he deftly caught her tiny hand in his, and when she tried to use the other arm to get her hand back he caught that one too.

He easily enveloped both of her hands with only one of his and held them above her head before using the other one to steady her hips so she didn’t push him too hard into the sink. Lydia struggled for a minute before realising resistance was futile.

Stiles smirked down at her when he realised he had won the battle. The red-head paused her movements, suddenly aware of their close proximity. If she pushed her body towards him another inch she would be pressed against him, she was close enough to see his tracheal muscles bob when he swallowed.

Lydia’s throat was dry when she tried to imitate his movements, she could feel the warmth in his fingers radiating through her small hands. She lifted her eyes to Stiles’ and saw him staring back at her, the smile was gone from his face now.

The red-head felt his breath ghost over the top of her head when he exhaled sharply and she was unexpectedly seized with the urge to lean up onto her toes and kiss him. His current cocky demeanour and the way his hold was making her feel so tiny and _girly_ was quickly heating her skin.

Lydia hadn’t really seen this side of him before, and doubted it existed before this moment, but now she was painfully aware of how _boyish_ he really was. She wanted to wrap her arms around his broad shoulders, she wanted him to move the hand that was on her hip and span it across her back, she wanted him to shift her forward slowly so she could feel his –

_Jesus Christ!_ Her mind screamed. Lydia jolted herself out of the moment and looked away from Stiles’ piercing gaze. He must’ve seen the terrified expression on her face as he dropped her hands like they were burning through his skin and cleared his throat.

The red-head leapt away from him, stepping on a few grapes in the process and looked over at Malia. Lydia wanted to cry from relief when she saw the brunette browsing her phone on the couch, not paying them any attention. She probably had gotten bored of her and Stiles’ play-fighting and turned her attention away from them.

Lydia couldn’t imagine what Malia would’ve thought if she had seen their compromising position.

“I have to finish my assignment,” the red-head told the pair, inwardly cringing when she heard how strained her voice sounded, “have fun tonight!”

Malia pulled her gaze away from her phone for a moment to smile at the other girl before it drew her attention again. Lydia spared Stiles one last glance and saw him standing in the same spot against the sink, staring at the floor.

She quickly turned around and entered her bedroom, accidentally slamming the door closed. The red-head breathed shakily for a minute before marching towards her desk and opening her Math textbook.

Lydia was not going to let herself think about what just happened for the foreseeable future. She determinedly pushed the image of Stiles’ creamy throat out of her head, and desperately ignored the lingering heat still running through her veins.

 

* * *

 

Stiles, Lydia and Malia walked up to the thumping house with anticipation settling low in each of their stomachs. They had decided to attend another frat party last week when Malia wouldn’t stop complaining about how bored she was. It was at the same location as the last one. Lydia prayed it wouldn’t have the same ending, but seeing as Stiles was now happy with the brunette standing next to him the red-head figured that was unlikely.

Lydia was wearing a matching electric blue skirt and bralette combo with heeled boots. It was one of her riskier outfits but she wanted to look drop-dead gorgeous tonight. When she walked out of her bedroom earlier that evening she purposefully avoided looking at Stiles, scared to see any kind of reaction from him. Malia looked amazing as well, in a plain playsuit. It was effortless, natural beauty, something Lydia couldn’t deny she envied.     

The red-head shook herself out of that way of thinking. She was beginning to get annoyed at herself, all the recent jealousy and negative thoughts towards Malia were tiring and unfounded. She liked the girl plenty and she absolutely, undeniably _didn’t_ like Stiles in that way, so she had no reason to be bitter. Lydia was just missing his company, nothing else.

“Shall we?” Stiles asked the girls, walking backwards in front of them.

The red-head looked at him appreciatively, admiring the way his plain t-shirt hugged the corded muscles in his upper arms. As soon as she realised what she was doing, however, she averted her eyes shamefully and gritted her teeth.

Ever since that _incident_ in the kitchen Lydia couldn’t stop noticing how undeniably attractive Stiles was. It was awfully frustrating, considering he had a…someone. She wasn’t entirely sure what he and Malia classed themselves as seeing as she didn’t like talking about it with either of them, but it was safe to say they were in a steady hook-up arrangement if nothing else.

Either way, the red-head didn’t want to be thinking about him like that. He was her roommate and friend, nothing more nothing less.

Lydia was snapped out of her reverie when Malia tugged on her arm, excitedly pulling her towards the party. She needed to get drunk and just forget about any untoward thoughts about the dorky, Star Wars obsessed nerd standing in front of her.

There was a different door boy than last time but he looked similarly miserable. Lydia didn’t need to flirt her way to free drinks this time, given that the chances of a frat house _not_ having a beer pong tournament downstairs were slim to none.

As the trio made their way to the basement the red-head noticed countless stares directed her way. She had really outdone herself with the outfit tonight, much to her satisfaction. Whenever Lydia was feeling insecure she could always rely on some external validation to cheer her up. It may be unhealthy, but so was self-doubt.

Soon enough the three of them were playing beer pong amongst a crowd of cheering dudes. It was Stiles and Malia versus Lydia and a guy named Carter. He was certainly attractive, with ash blonde hair and honey coloured eyes.  The red-head didn’t hate the way his hand softly creeped up her back when she was shooting for a cup either.

Maybe she could have a little fun tonight, and simultaneously get the image of Stiles whispering tactics into Malia’s ear while she aimed out of her head.

Lydia and Carter won the round eventually and got to watch the pair at the opposite end of the table down their last drink. The red-head picked up one of her many cups of beer and started gulping it down. She couldn’t really explain where her head was at at that point in time but she knew she needed to get appropriately drunk to deal with it.

The four of them stepped back from the ping pong table to let others start a new game, then regrouped near the corner of the room. By this point, the alcohol was starting to make Lydia sway slightly where she stood, Carter ‘steadied’ her by putting his hand on her waist.

The red-head saw one of the frat boys now playing beer pong get left hanging by his teammate and burst out laughing. “Stiles!” she cried, turning to ask if he’d seen it too but she was met with the sight of him and Malia making out.

Lydia didn’t expect the pang of jealousy and rejection that hit her deep in her gut. The toothy smile on her face a moment ago was nowhere to be seen now, and she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the pair.

Stiles had his hands resting on Malia’s slim waist and they were slowing inching downwards towards her rear, occasionally squeezing. Lydia could see the way he pressed their hips together while licked into her mouth. It looked like a good kiss too, just enough tongue and a sense of urgency.

The red-head ached. She burned to feel his hands on her like that, fingers spasming around her hips.

She needed to get a fucking grip and stop staring, though, because if they pulled apart and Stiles saw her looking at him like she was now, things could get messy.

The bitter burning feeling at the back of her throat urged her to get him back, make him jealous over her instead, so she did the first thing she could think of. Lydia turned back towards Carter and looped her arms around his neck, momentarily spying a look of surprise on his face before she closed the gap between their lips.

She needed to get Stiles out of her fucking head and the only way to do that was to lose herself in this kiss. Lydia had to give Carter props, he was an exceptional kisser. Each time their mouth’s parted and re-joined he slipped his tongue a little further between her lips. He wasn’t shy with his hands either, they were pinching at her ass one minute, and brushing along her ribs the next.

It seemed to be working. Lydia forgot what she was thinking moments earlier and was solely focused on the warmth spreading through her veins. The numerous cups of beer were enhancing the sensations, making everything fuzzy and tingly.

They broke apart moments later, and as much as Lydia had hoped to forget why she kissed Carter in the first place, she couldn’t stop herself from turning to see if Stiles had had any kind of reaction. She hated that she wanted to see jealousy in his angular features.

He and Malia were nowhere to be found however, the spot they had been embracing in was now vacated. Lydia’s brows furrowed and she suddenly wanted to cry. They had just left her, kissing a stranger

“What’s wrong?” Carter asked her, trying to get her to face him again.

The red-head masked her hurt before turning around. “Did you see where my friends went?” she asked in return.

Carter smirked and tugged her closer, “I was a little preoccupied…” he flirted.

Lydia let him kiss her briefly before pulling her arm out of his grip. “I should probably go look for them.” She told him weakly. No matter how much she tried to concentrate on what to do her brain was muddled, every sensible thought she had dissipated into vague notion.

“Okay,” Carter agreed amicably, “do you mind if I get your number first?”

Lydia nodded absentmindedly and took the phone out of his hands while searching for her tall, brunette in the crowded basement. She would probably regret giving Carter her number in the morning, but she liked the way he kissed her and that he wasn’t pressuring her into staying. Plus the alcohol was stopping any rational thought from sticking in her mind. 

When Lydia failed to find Stiles and Malia in the basement she unsteadily wandered up the stairs and back into the party. She attempted to look for their faces in the crowd but the world was tipping on its edge and she couldn’t focus on anyone long enough to recognise their features.

The red-head knew she let herself get too drunk but couldn’t bring herself to care. She was trying to decide between wanting to dance and finding somewhere to lie down but seeing as the dancefloor was right in front of her she chose the former. Lydia squeezed herself into the throng of bodies and let the thumping bass dictate her movements.

She remembered last time she was here she was grinding up on Stiles. What a fucking idiot she was, stopping him from kissing her. She wouldn’t be in this stupid situation if she’d just let it happen. But then again, Lydia reasoned, she honestly didn’t feel this red hot attraction towards him at the time. Now she was suffering.

She checked her phone after what seemed like fifteen minutes, but much to her drunk mind’s astonishment it had been two hours since the three of them had entered the basement. When her eyes flickered downwards she saw a multitude of missed calls and texts from Stiles.

She pushed her way out of the dancefloor as her eyes watered slightly, he did care. Of course he wouldn’t just leave her. Lydia struggled to hold back tears, all she wanted to do right now was see his dumb, smiling face and let him take her home.

Through her blurry vision she barely made out the most recent text.

_Stiles [sunglasses emoji]: Can you call me back please?! Malia and I went home because we couldn’t find you and I assumed you were going home with that guy. I just want to know if you’re safe :)_

Lydia grinned and bee-lined for the front door. She didn’t want to call him now, she’d surprise him when she got home and hug him until her arms were sore. She grabbed an unopened water bottle from the table next to the door and headed out into the cool night, unable to tone down her excitement.

 

* * *

 

When the Uber dropped Lydia off outside her apartment she was slightly more sober, and the more she thought about it, the more she realised barging into Stiles’ room while he and Malia were in there would be too weird. She figured they probably just wanted to be alone or were sleeping, so she would try to be quiet when she came in.

Despite being inebriated, when Lydia put her mind to something, she never failed to pull it off. The entrance into her apartment was so inaudible she couldn’t quite believe it. In the morning, Stiles might tell her she knocked over a bunch of stuff but right now she was convinced she made a silent entry.  

Feeling accomplished, Lydia crept into the bathroom, brushed her teeth and removed her smoky make up. She even resisted to urge to talk her mirror image, something she often did when she was this under the influence.

She got into her bedroom and turned her beside lamp on, casting a soft glow over the contents of her room. She decided to forego pyjamas and chose to sleep in a tank top and underwear, reasoning that if Stiles walked in to check on her he would receive an eyeful. She knew sober Lydia would think that was completely stupid but felt too self-satisfied to care.

When she turned her lamp out and turned on her side the red-head realised her ears were still ringing from the loud music at the party. Well that was annoying, how was she supposed to sleep peacefully when all she could hear was a series of thumps and moans?

_Thumps and moans?!_ her mind shrieked as Lydia bolted upright. That wasn’t the echo of the night’s noises, she could hear Stiles and Malia through the wall next to her!

The red-head slowly leant her head against her bedroom wall, jumping back when she heard low murmurs and a guttural groan. _Oh god_ , Lydia internally cried, they were having sex on the other side of the wall. They must not have heard her come in because she made such an effort to be quiet. What an idiot she was! How was she supposed to sleep now when she could hear Stiles’ grunts of exertion?

She returned her ear to the wall and listened closer, fixated by the sounds they were both making. Malia sounded like she was enjoying whatever Stiles was doing to her, given the noises of pleasure she was rhythmically expelling. When the red-head concentrated she could hear Stiles slurring things at Malia, she couldn’t quite make out what he was saying but it sounded wicked.

Lydia’s nerve endings were on fire, she was unbelievably turned on by the sounds she was hearing. She hadn’t let herself think about what Stiles would be like in bed, knowing it would exponentially strengthen her attraction to him, but now it was shoved in her face. She couldn’t help putting herself in Malia’s place, imagining he was steadily drilling into her, pulling her hair and whispering dirty things into her ear.

The red-head struggled to swallow the moan building in the back of her throat as she let her hand skim the front of her body and settle over the front of her underwear. She could hear his voice becoming more strained and the thumps against the bedroom wall increasing their pace. She lay back down, letting the dizziness overcome her while she slipped her fingers past the edge of her panties.

As her index finger brushed her clit she heard Stiles let out a sharp expletive and she had to slap her hand over her mouth to stop any noises escaping. They were clear getting closer in the other room, given that their moans were building in volume and intensity. Lydia pressed her fingers down on the small bundle of nerves and began rubbing rhythmic circles, feeling hot all over.

Stiles was so _expressive_ that she wanted to exult, he didn’t bother keeping his throaty groans quiet and when she closed her eyes he was loud enough for her to imagine him above her. She could feel the familiar building pressure in her lower stomach as his noises became truly desperate and erratic.

After an explosive series of moans and grunts the pair on the other side of the wall seemed to be finished. Lydia rapidly retracted her hand from her underwear in the abrupt quiet of the house. She felt cold.

Why the fuck did she do that? The red-head’s cheeks burned with shame and embarrassment. If Stiles knew that she had touched herself to the sounds of him having sex with another girl he would think she was a complete freak. God, what the hell was she thinking?

Lydia squeezed back the hot tears that threatened to overflow out of her eyes and turned over, pulling the blanket up to her chin. She needed to sleep and think about this when she was sober.

All that was running through her mind in this moment was Stiles’ name, and the realisation that she was well and truly fucked. Lydia couldn’t deny her feelings for him after this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woooooo that was a little steamy wasn't it?? sorry for the slow update, uni is kicking my ass rn but im still soldiering on lol. lemme know what you guys think of these recent developments because i've been excited about this chapter for a while now!! hope you enjoyed it, reviews are life <3


	11. The Aftermath

Lydia struggled to open her eyes after a short and fitful sleep the morning after the party. Her mind was hazy and slow, stopping her from remembering what happened the night before. Once again, she had gotten too drunk and probably done something idiotic.

There was a soft knock on the door and Lydia slowly sat up, groaning in answer. She saw Stiles’ spiky tufts of hair poking around the side of the door before she saw his face but that was all it took to jog her memory.

The images appeared like blurry slides shuffling quickly enough to induce a headache; her, Stiles, and Malia going to the frat party, her watching the two of them make out, her kissing that frat boy, her losing them, her getting too drunk and going home by herself, her _masturbating_ to the sound of Stiles and Malia having sex.

_Oh God!_ Lydia internally cried. What the _fuck_ was going through her head?!

Lydia could feel her cheeks get uncomfortably hot and red. Stiles was making his way into her room, though, so she couldn’t outwardly express the whirlwind of thoughts travelling around her brain.

“Is it alright if I sit?” Stiles asked, gesturing to her bed. He was wearing his regular sleep wear; a white t-shirt and pyjama pants. Lydia couldn’t help but admire how charming and dishevelled he looked.

She really wasn’t comfortable with him sitting on her bed, the space she was touching herself and thinking of him only several hours ago, but she supposed he would find it suspicious if she refused, so she hummed in agreement.

Stiles sat mid-way up on her bed and smiled sheepishly at her. Lydia shifted so the blanket covered her lower body when she remembered she was only wearing underwear. “What?’ she asked him, with an unusual amount of bite in her tone. The red-head wanted him to leave so she could get her head together, and because she was still sore over the fact that they’d ditched her at the party.

Stiles was somehow not hung-over enough to miss her reaction and averted his eyes. Of course it wasn’t going to be easy. This was Lydia Martin he was dealing with, she was the embodiment of the saying _hell hath no fury like a woman scorned._

She looked troubled, he noticed, it was something about her that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. He hoped to God that nothing had happened to her at the party while he was with Malia. Stiles would never forgive himself.

“What time did you get in? I didn’t hear you last night.” He asked, wanting to slowly work up to an apology instead of overwhelming her. She would probably yell at him to get out if he did that.

Lydia’s eyes widened for a moment before she hid the odd reaction. “Um,” she croaked, voice hoarse from talking and singing all night, “around three I think.”

It was a lie. She had gotten home closer to two in the morning but she didn’t want him even considering the possibility that she was here while he was _very_ awake with Malia.

Stiles nodded, thankfully oblivious, “I must’ve been asleep.” he noted, Lydia wanted to cry and laugh at the same time. “What did you do at the party while we weren’t there?” he asked her.

Lydia rolled her eyes, her anger returning in the space of a second. “You mean when you left without me?” she asked him, voice laced with venom. She knew she was being a little dramatic, they did try to look for her after all, but she just felt so hurt and embarrassed and _off_ that she couldn’t stop herself from taking her anger out on Stiles.

The boy flinched at her comment, sighing aloud. “Look Lydia,” he began, nervously tracing over the patterns on her blanket cover, “I’m so sorry that we left. I know I should’ve looked for you for longer but I was just drunk and caught up with Malia….I’m sorry. I hope the rest of the party was fun.”

Lydia watched him closely with narrowed eyes. He determinedly wasn’t making eye-contact with her and she wanted to put a stop to his annoying hand movements. That meant touching him, though, and she didn’t want to do that. He obviously did feel awful about it. Maybe she was being too harsh, its not like he hadn’t tried to find her judging by the multitude of missed calls on her phone last night. She couldn’t blame him for wanting to spend time with Malia either.

The red-head rolled her eyes, inwardly cursing herself for being so weak-willed. She couldn’t look at his dejected expression any longer. “It’s okay.” Lydia forced out.

She just wanted to forget the whole ordeal. Especially the parts of the night that occurred in this bed.

Stiles’ head jerked up to look at her, not quite believing what he heard. His mouth opened and closed a couple of times before he cleared his throat. “Really?” he asked, voice hopeful. He couldn’t stand it when Lydia was upset with him.

The red-head’s lips twitched upwards, like she was trying to smile but couldn’t quite bring herself to do it. She felt drained. “Yes, Stiles,” she answered flatly, “now can you go? I need to get dressed.”

Stiles reacted immediately, standing up with maximum flailing. “Yeah, of course,” he muttered, “sorry!”

Once the door closed behind him, Lydia put her head in her hands. She felt tears prick at her eyes but she was somehow able to push them back. She _hated_ feeling like this. She hated feeling at odds with Stiles, she hated that she couldn’t just hug him and forget about all of this, she hated that she had proper romantic feelings for her friend and roommate, the same friend and roommate that was with someone else. She hated not being able to get what she wanted.   

Lydia got out of bed and started rummaging through her closet, choosing a clean pair of skins and a t-shirt. Maybe she would go on a run today, just to clear her head.

When she exited her room the first thing she saw was Stiles and Malia sitting on opposite sides of the dining table, eating eggs and smiling at each other. Lydia hid the grimace brought on by the jealous pang in her gut and walked over to the kitchen. She assumed the left over eggs and bacon in the fry pan were meant for her. At least they were nice enough to make her breakfast.

“Morning, Lydia.” Malia greeted her, while simultaneously stealing a piece bacon off of Stiles’ plate, “Sleep well?”

“Yep.” The red-head answered, smiling tersely and scooping the scrambled eggs onto her plate. She stayed on the opposite side of the bench and ate there, not wanting to sit near the love-birds and be a witness to the sickly-sweet smiles. It was a bit too much for her right now.

Once she finished her breakfast, Lydia rinsed off her plate and filled up one of the many water bottles lying around. She dashed back into her room to put on runners and grab her iPod, feeling a strange sense of urgency to get out of the apartment and leave Stiles and Malia by themselves.

“Where are you going?” Stiles asked her when she was almost out of the door. Lydia sighed and turned back to him, emphatically looking down at her sportswear and workout accessories. Stiles momentarily closed his eyes, feeling stupid. “Right, enjoy your run then.” He offered.

Stiles knew that Lydia was obviously still upset with the two of them, despite saying it was okay. He also knew that overcompensating would probably annoy her more than anything else but he honestly couldn’t help himself. He just hated the fact that the only one to blame here was himself, she had every right to be angry.

Lydia rolled her eyes at him and shut the door behind her. “Hey,” Malia said softly, putting her hand over his to get his attention, “just give her a bit of time and space.”

Stiles nodded sadly and stroked his thumb over hers in an attempt to distract himself.

 

* * *

 

Lydia breathed shakily when she reached the bottom of the stairs. Stiles was being such an asshole, feeling honest remorse and trying to make her feel better after upsetting her. Couldn’t he just be cold and mean? So maybe she wouldn’t soften her resolve every time he looked at her.

The red-head shook her head in frustration. The reason she was going on a run right now was to avoid thinking about him.

Lydia found her workout mix on her iPod and pressed shuffle. When _Flesh without Blood_ by _Grimes_ sounded through her headphones she began walking, stretching out her arms and legs. Soon enough she was steadily jogging, unable to think about anything other than the burn in her thighs and the perspiration beading on her forehead.

Running was exactly what the red-head needed right now. She was _Lydia_ _fucking M_ a _rtin_ and she’ll be damned before she lets a boy determine her happiness. She was going to throw herself back into her studies and college life. No matter what happened with Stiles or anyone else, she would always have her intelligence and passion.

When Lydia arrived back at the apartment, she felt rejuvenated and resolute. Stiles and Malia were watching cartoons on the couch together but the red-head wasn’t going to let the sight of them cuddled up affect her this morning.

“Good run?” Stiles asked her when she walked in.

“Yep!” Lydia offered animatedly, before closing her bedroom door behind her. She checked her phone while she pulled her long hair out of its ponytail. There was a text from Carter, the boy she’d kissed at the party last night when she was feeling particularly spiteful.    

_Unknown Number: Hey Lydia, it’s Carter, your resident beer pong champion. Hope you had a good time last night, I certainly did :) Hopefully we can see each other again xx_

Lydia smiled at the text. She had always loved male attention and this boy was an exceptional kisser. Maybe this was the perfect way to get over Stiles, she needed a good distraction. She felt optimistic about the situation as she typed a reply.

_You: Hey, I did have good time last night and maybe, just maybe, we can see each other again….if you’re lucky ;) xx_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh my god i am so sorry this took so long!!! i wish i had more time to write but gotta get them grades you know? anyway so lydia's feeling optimistic about everything and stiles is feeling terrible, what are everyone's thoughts about that? P.S everyone needs to listen to flesh without blood - grimes because it is a total banger. Reviews are life <3 <3


	12. The Awkwardness

The next few weeks passed relatively quickly. The end of semester was nearing and Lydia and Stiles hadn’t talked about their holiday plans just yet. Lydia was unsure whether to stay here for the winter break or return to Beacon Hills, maybe with Stiles joining her. She supposed her mom would want to spend Christmas with her, despite Natalie never really expressing it, the red-head knew her mother missed her.

These days, Lydia and Stiles didn’t actually see that much of each other. Between college work piling up and time spent with their significant others, they were rarely out of their rooms and if they were, they had company.

Lydia’s relationship with Carter could only be described as a friends with benefits arrangement, which she was perfectly content with. Despite the sex being great, she was still feeling unfulfilled. Not she’d ever tell anyone that.

She was unsure what label to attribute to Stiles and Malia, seeing as there was an unspoken rule to never talk about it with him. She wasn’t sure if they were exclusive, dating, or just fucking, but either way it still meant Stiles was off limits.

Lydia was glad that Carter proved to be a good enough distraction, anytime she felt down about Stiles or anything really, he was one call away. She didn’t have to think about her problems when she could barely remember her own name.

Despite doing everything to prevent it, however, Lydia’s attraction to Stiles was steadily approaching its breaking point. Four months ago, if anyone had asked if she thought Stiles was hot, she would’ve thought about his hyperactive manner, flailing limbs, and general awkwardness and laughed in their face. Now, it was like every one of his actions had a direct line to her nerve endings. Lydia couldn’t believe the simple act of him cooking or fiddling with a bottle cap or even just leaning against her bedroom door frame got her fired up. She didn’t think she’d had it this bad since Jackson.

Lydia shook her head, looking down at her weekly math readings, she still couldn’t get Stiles out of her head. It was beyond frustrating.

As if on cue, there was a knock on her door. Lydia looked down at her tracksuit pants and sports bra and decided she was decent enough. “Come in!” She called, standing up from her desk and grabbing her tea-cup. She glad for the excuse to stretch her legs.

Stiles opened the door and leant against the frame. Lydia averted her eyes, once again feeling her pulse quicken. How did he manage to look so good in sweats? His veiny hands twirled his mobile phone around a few times before he opened his mouth to speak. “So Malia’s busy tonight and I’m bored….want to watch the new Walking Dead episode?” he asked her.

Lydia hid her flinch. She was sure he didn’t mean to imply she was a back-up plan after Malia’s no-show, but it hurt all the same. She weighed up her options as she purposefully strode out of her room and into the kitchen to put the kettle on. She kind of wanted to tell him no, even though she had nothing better to do, she didn’t want him to think she only existed when Malia wasn’t available. On the other hand, she missed Stiles. Watching the Walking Dead was something they used to enjoy doing together and she wanted to feel that connection with him again.

Carter was going to come over in an hour or so, after he finished work, and Lydia couldn’t deny that she loved seeing him and Stiles interact. There was always a subtle undercurrent of them squaring each other up and it was kind of hilarious.

Once the kettle had been switched on, the red-head turned to face Stiles, where he was still standing in her doorframe. “I suppose I can fit an episode in before Carter comes over.” She told him nonchalantly.

Stiles raised his eyebrows for a moment before pushing himself off the doorframe. “Oh, I didn’t know he was coming over.” he remarked, trying to act indifferent. Lydia wanted to laugh, “I’ll put the episode on now then.”

The red-head nodded and turned to rifle through the pantry for snacks while he turned off the lights. Once her tea was ready and she’d grabbed a few packets of lollies, Lydia made her way over to the couch and sat down at the edge. Before Malia and these _feelings_ , she would’ve had no qualms about cuddling up next to Stiles. Now, she tucked her legs underneath herself and faced forward, ignoring the questioning look he was giving her.

The _Previously On_ section started and Lydia realised some of the scenes look unfamiliar. “Hang on,” she said, holding an arm out towards Stiles, “I don’t think I’ve seen the episode before this.”

He looked more excited than annoyed. “Yes!” he exclaimed, clenching his fist, “The last ep was so awesome, let’s watch that one first!”

Lydia couldn’t help but smile, his delight was contagious. She took a sip of her steaming tea as he changed the episode on his laptop. The red-head found herself getting lost in the action and suspense of the show, before she knew it her legs were stretched out across the couch and her feet were tucked under Stiles’ thigh.

He didn’t flinch at the contact or move away as though he’d been burned like Lydia had half expected him to. In fact, he adjusted his position slightly to cover more of her feet, without looking like he knew he had even done it.

The red-head held back a gleeful grin. Their relationship was certainly not as easy or comfortable as it once was, but Lydia had clearly been exacerbating the problem in her head. Stiles probably thought nothing of friendly skin to skin contact, he probably hadn’t even known she was withholding it.

Lydia tore her attention away from the TV for a moment and found herself entranced by his side profile. His ski-slope nose and full lips were standing out in the contrasting light. Stiles had an undeniably beautiful facial structure, with his high cheekbones and sharp jawline. The red-head wanted to kiss every inch of his pale and mole-smattered skin. She could almost feel the sensation of running her tongue along his jaw and curling it around the base of his ear.

Stiles noticed her prolonged stare and turned to look at her. His face was barely illuminated by the light emanating from the television, and when they were here, shrouded in darkness, Lydia could almost pretend he was looking at her with heat and affection. The things she looked at him with.

There was a sudden sharp knock on the apartment door, breaking the two of them out of their trance. Lydia yanked her feet out from underneath Stiles’ legs and hurried over to the front door, turning the light on before opening it.

Carter was smiling when the red-head yanked back the wood. “Hey,” he said, “my manager let me off a little early so here I am.”

Lydia determinedly pushed the moment that happened on the couch only seconds ago into the back of her mind and forced herself to imitate his expression. “Lucky me,” She joked, “come on, let’s go to my room.”

When the red-head turned around, Stiles was sitting in the same spot on the couch with his arm now slung over the back. He looked disappointed. “I take it no more Walking Dead tonight.” He deduced.

Lydia inwardly cringed. She really did want to spend time with him but she didn’t trust herself not to do something stupid, like try to kiss him or confess her feelings. Plus, now that Carter was here she couldn’t imagine watching TV while sitting in between them. It was what nightmares were made of. “Sorry, Stiles,” was all she could offer, “we should definitely do it later this week, though.”  

“Yeah, whatever.” He muttered. The sides of his mouth were downturned. Lydia hated the sight so much that she wanted to kick Carter out and resume where she and Stiles left off. She knew that that would be a bad idea, however, this whole distraction plan she had was working well enough and prioritising Stiles’ hurt feelings over Carter’s presence would be counterproductive.

“Hey, Stiles.” Carter called out to him.

“’Sup.” Stiles retorted dryly.

Normally, the pair hid their dislike of each other a bit better in front of Lydia but Carter appeared to be feeling particularly arrogant tonight. The red-head was going to have a few stern words with him about that a bit later. Maybe she would even deprive him of sex for the night, she wasn’t really in the mood after seeing Stiles’ crestfallen face anyway.

 

* * *

 

“I, honest to God, cannot believe you’re admitting this to me.” Allison’s crackly voice spoke with disbelief over the phone.

Lydia had called her the next night while Stiles and Malia were out seeing a movie. Carter hadn’t been particularly happy about her denying sex last night but she couldn’t let him get away with being a dick to her roommate.

She was rarely open about her feelings, even with Allison, but Lydia was sick of stewing over every little interaction, so she decided to get some good old fashioned advice from her best friend. “I know, I know,” she replied, placing the phone on her chest while she examined a mole on her leg, “but that’s not important right now. I need to vent, or for you to tell me what to do, or just to hear your voice.”

“Aw, baby…” Allison said, voice shaking, the sound of it made tears prick at Lydia’s eyes. She missed her best friend so ridiculously much, especially in times like these. “I wish I could give you a hug.”

“Me too.” Lydia told her, lower lip trembling with the effort not to cry. She let out a sniffle before exhaling deeply and schooling her features to resemble something calm. “Do you have any advice?”  

“I’m sorry, Lydia,” Allison said, sounding sincere, as always, “I think what you’re doing right now is the best thing you could do. He has a girlfriend, and you have to respect that, so staying distracted with this boy sounds like a good idea to me.”

“Yeah,” Lydia replied, she tried not to sound as disappointed as she felt, “yeah, you’re right. I just need to keep my distance.”

Allison made a noise of agreement before opening her mouth to speak. “Don’t shut Stiles out though. You don’t want to lose him as a friend.”

Lydia was grateful that her best-friend always sounded so sure of what she was saying. It was reassuring and something the red-head desperately needed right now. She could do this. She could keep her distance and still maintain a tentative friendship, it couldn’t be too hard when she and Stiles _lived_ together after all.

“You’re right, I can’t believe – ” Lydia cut herself off when she heard the front door open and muffled voices. “Hang on, I think they just got home.” She told Allison.

“Are you okay?” the brunette asked, knowing Lydia was more affected by the sound and sight of Stiles and Malia than she let on.

The red-head scoffed, “I’m fine, Allison. I think I should go though…it’s getting late.”

Her best-friend sighed. “Okay,” she said dejectedly, “I love you.”

Lydia smiled, never ever getting sick of hearing that. “I love you, too.” She replied, before hanging up.

The talk with Allison had made her feel better on a few levels, but in end she basically told Lydia what she already knew. She was in too deep and all she could do was force herself to get over it.

It didn’t help that she had unlucky timing either, when the red-head left her room later that night to grab a glass of water, Stiles’ bedroom door was suddenly yanked open. The boy stepped out distractedly, looking back at the girl sitting on his bed. He was only wearing pyjama pants and when he turned back around with a toothy smile slowly fading from his face, Lydia wanted to scream.

Couldn’t she just live in blissful ignorance? Now, she had the image of Stiles’ lean torso and broad shoulders burned into her brain forever.

“Oh, hey Lydia.” He greeted casually when he finally noticed her presence in the kitchen.

The red-head had to clear her throat before replying. “Hey.” She said quietly, voice weak.

“I’m just getting a glass of water.” Stiles explained, walking towards her. She could just make out the trail of dark hair descending from his belly button to below the waist line of his pants in the limited light.

Lydia clenched her fists beside her until her nails bit into her palms and simply turned around, walking straight back into her bedroom. The half-empty glass was forgotten on the kitchen bench. When her hand slid between her legs that night, she would vehemently deny that she thought about moles and hazel eyes instead of ash blonde hair and tanned skin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> surprise update!!! i know this chapter wasn't particularly exciting but im really trying to convey lydia's struggle and confusion concerning stiles. i personally feel sorry for her, poor girl, she's never the girl with a crush. reviews are life <3


	13. The Disintegration

“Stiles!”

“What?!” Stiles shouted in response to the disembodied voice. Lydia and Malia were in the living room together so it really could’ve been either one of them.

There was a moment of silence followed by the sound of muffled laughter. “Get your ass out here now!” the voice commanded.

Stiles smiled to himself. It was definitely Malia.

The boy exited his room happily, finally able to leave the confined space. The girls had told him to stay there until whatever surprise they had planned was ready. They neglected to mention that it would take a full hour.

“Happy Birthday!” They chorused in unison as soon as he showed his face. The living room was littered with a bunch of streamers and balloons, there was also a banner hanging on the back wall that read _Happy 50 th Birthday!_

Maybe the store had run out of age appropriate banners, Stiles thought to himself. Lydia and Malia were standing in the kitchen behind a candlelit cake, grinning so wide his heartbeat quickened. They both looked so fucking beautiful that he had to look away for a moment.

He walked over to the bench, unable to stop beaming at the two of them. “Aw, you guys this is the nicest thing ever!” Stiles exclaimed. The words _happy birthday to our idiot_ were written on the cake in blue icing.

Lydia let out a melodious laugh, “It’s not _that_ great.”

“Yeah,” Malia agreed, “only minimum effort was put into this.”

Stiles scoffed, “I know you’re both lying but I’m going to let it slide. I’m entering my twenties as a better person.”

“Uh huh,” Lydia said disbelievingly before handing him their sharpest knife.

Stiles blew out the candles, wishing for an Xbox One before slicing the knife through the soft chocolate, purposefully hitting the bottom. When he looked up Lydia was filling up a glass of water at the sink so he walked to the other side of the bench and kissed Malia.

“Thanks.” He murmured, tucking her hair behind her ear.

Malia smiled at him, pecking him on the lips one last time and smiling. “Ain’t no thang.” She replied.

Stiles looked at Lydia then, she was sipping her water and checking her phone. “You don’t get to avoid this.” He said, steadily approaching her.

When Lydia looked up she seemed frightened. “Avoid what?” she asked, placing her glass on the counter and backing away as much as she could before hitting the edge of the sink.

“This!” Stiles yelled and as enveloped her in a bear hug and lifted her up. Her hair smelt like strawberries and vanilla as it fell around his face and she let out a girlish giggle.

“Oh my god!” she cried, weakly attempting to get him to let go of her. “Stiles, stop!”

“Okay, okay, okay.” He repeated while he let her down gently, when her feet were firmly planted on the ground he quickly swooped in to kiss her on the cheek. “Thank you.” He said sincerely.

Lydia’s eyes were wide as she smiled weakly. “It was nothing.” She told him, voice uncharacteristically small. When Stiles turned back around to cut himself a piece of cake she slowly raised her fingers to her face, touching the place his lips had warmed her skin.

The plan was for the three of them to go _Joe’s_ after some cake had been eaten but Lydia felt the sudden need to back out. She thought she could bare third wheeling because it was Stiles’ birthday and he would want her there but she beginning to realise it would be nothing but torture. Seeing him and Malia so happy together was slowly taking its toll on her emotional well-being, the fact that a simple kiss on the cheek was making her feel so off-centre was telling that she would have too much of a hard time if she went tonight.

Lydia wasn’t quite sure why she was feeling so sensitive at that moment but it increased the impulse to send a text to Carter, asking him to come over. She looked over to Stiles and Malia and saw them talking lowly to each other, smiles natural and private.

Lydia quickly pulled her phone out and sent a text to Carter. She felt momentarily guilty but reasoned that Stiles probably wouldn’t be too cut up about it. It’s not like she didn’t see him at all on his birthday, they had had a quick cup of coffee this morning when they both had a break in their timetable and it was nice to spend some one on one time with him. Besides, he would still be with Malia, the girl he was much more interested in than Lydia.

The red-head was snapped out of her contemplation when her phone vibrated in her hand. It was Carter telling her he’d be over in fifteen minutes.

Stiles turned around to face Lydia. “Are you ready to go?” he asked. When she nodded he turned to Malia, “Do you two want to go wait by the car? I just have to call my dad real quick.”

Lydia smiled tightly and addressed Malia, trying to act casual. “You go,” she said, “I just have to fix my hair, I’ll be down in two seconds.”

Malia scoffed and gave Lydia a once-over, “It looks perfect, but okay.” She told the red-had before grabbing her bag and exiting the apartment.

Stiles began to make his way to his room so Lydia called his name to get his attention. She suddenly wanted to take it all back when she saw his happy, unguarded expression but steeled herself within. She had to prove to herself that couldn’t always give into him.

“Uh – sorry, Stiles, I’m actually not going to come anymore. Carter just told me that his shift was cancelled so he’s coming over now.” Lydia lied.

Stiles’ easy smile dropped instantly as he comprehended what she said. “Are you serious?” he asked disbelievingly.

The red-head wanted to call up into a ball and die right there but she had to stick by her decision. She was Lydia Martin for fuck’s sake, she could do emotionally unavailable like no other and now was the time to show it. She wiped her face of any expression before opening her mouth to speak, “You go,” she said, “you guys will have a great time together.”

Stiles shook his head like he couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing. “Are you fucking serious?!” he asked again, anger lacing each word.

“Yes.” Was all Lydia said, flipping her hair behind her right shoulder for good measure.

“You’d rather see that – that _asshole_ over me on my birthday?” he questioned incredulously, beneath the surface indignity there was undeniable hurt etched into his features.

Lydia rolled her eyes and rested a hand on her hip to stop it from shaking. “Come on, Stiles,” she said condescendingly, “I already saw you today and Carter isn’t an asshole. Don’t act like a child.”  

Stiles was looking at her like he was seeing something he didn’t like and it twisted deep in her stomach. _Make him hate you,_ a small voice at the back of Lydia’s mind whispered convincingly, _if you can’t make him love you, make him hate you_. Lydia couldn’t help but listen to it. She straightened her spine and lifted her chin up, daring him to defy her.

Stiles’ mouth opened and closed as a million responses scratched at the edges, begging to be spoken. “He’s never nice to me…” he settled on, inwardly cursing himself for making such a weak argument.

“Please,” Lydia said, tilting her head judgementally, “he’s perfectly civil to you. You just hate the fact that he gets more of my attention than you.”

She couldn’t help but feel a pang of remorse at the sudden flinch Stiles displayed, her words had too much bite in them. She was letting the emotional turmoil she’d been going through for the last month cloud her judgement and lace her voice with venom.

Stiles looked hurt for a moment before clenching his fists by sides and curling his upper lip cruelly. “Oh yeah?” he replied, narrowing his eyes at her with a new found resentment. “Well maybe you just hate the fact that Malia has all of my attention and you have none of it.”

The sentence felt like a punch to Lydia’s gut. She fought back the ever-present urge to cry and strengthened her resolve even further. This was exactly what she knew would happen if she pushed him far enough. Now that she knew that he was just as capable of being punishing as her, maybe she could just get the fuck over him. Maybe her mind could accept this as an irreconcilable flaw and see that her feelings for him were pointless.

Lydia twisted her lips into a grimace before speaking. “You can go now.”

“Happily.” He bit back before grabbing his phone and jacket, anger punctuating his every movement. “Enjoy your life with that dick in the Ice Palace.” Stiles called as he exited the apartment. His voice was vengeful, as though he was hoping the words would sink their teeth into Lydia right where he knew it would hurt the most.

When the door slammed closed Lydia clutched her chest as a dry sob was wrenched out of it. She had put the final nail in the coffin now. Stiles wouldn’t even want to look at her when he returned. She thought she knew what she wanted but the old Lydia obviously still inhabited a space in her head. The old Lydia had convinced her that this was the only way she could protect herself.

The red-head put her face into her hands and screamed into them, attempting to let out some of the suffocating emotions she couldn’t stop herself from feeling. How was she even going to begin to process all of this? Why didn’t she just fucking stop herself from ruining her relationship with one of the best people she knew?

She was the epitome of stupid.

A knock on the door startled Lydia out of her reverie and for a moment her blood ran cold, maybe it was Stiles coming back to tell her he hated her and that he wanted to move out.

After a minute of Lydia standing in the kitchen the person knocked on the door again. “Lydia? It’s Carter.” The muffled voice called.

The red-head sighed in relief and almost tripped over her feet in an effort to get to the door. When she wrenched it open with a frantic eyes and quick breath Carter could tell that something was going on.

“Lydia?” he asked her, reaching out and lifting her chin up to face him, “Are you okay?”

Lydia nodded while pressing her lips together and reached up to pull his mouth down to hers. All she wanted to do was clear her head.

Carter moved his head backwards, keeping his lip just out of her reach. “Do you want to talk about it?” he asked her, brows furrowed.

Lydia let out a noise of frustration and tried even harder to kiss him. “No, I don’t want to fucking talk about it.” She said sharply, “Can you just fuck me already?”

For a moment, Carter looked like he was going to refuse her but then thought better of it. That would probably make her even angrier, perhaps angry enough to end their little arrangement.

When he let her pull his head down, Lydia kissed him with such desperation that it was almost violent. She made quick work of his button down shirt and roughly palmed his dick through his trousers. If he wasn’t so turned on he’d probably be a little afraid.

Lydia took her dress off with quick and jerky movements before propping herself up on the kitchen bench. She let out a sharp cry when Carter tugged down her underwear with almost enough force to rip them. This is exactly what she needed.

“Yes,” she breathed as he nipped her inner thigh with his canines, “yes.”

Her head fell back as she closed her eyes, letting the pleasure light up every nerve in her body. This was how she was going to forget.

She just needed to forget.  

 

* * *

 

“Stiles!” Malia called, snapping her fingers in front of his face. When he shook himself out of his train of thought and refocused his attention back on her, she looked unimpressed.

“Sorry M,” Stiles apologised half-heartedly, “what were you saying?”

Malia huffed and took a long swig of her beer. They had arrived at _Joe’s_ around half an hour ago with the intention of having a good time. Stiles thought that he could achieve that if he got drunk and was with Malia but he couldn’t stop thinking about his fight with Lydia. When Malia had asked why he came out of the apartment alone he had bitten something back about _assholes_ and _she’s not coming_.

“I was _saying_ that I wish you could pay attention.” Malia told him, her face was scrunched up in annoyance but once she took in his expression it softened. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Stiles attempted a smile and reached his hand out to hold hers over the table. “I don’t know,” he began, “I don’t really want to bring down the mood but I can’t stop thinking about it.”

Malia stroked her thumb over his, “What did she say to you?” she asked tentatively. She was beyond curious about what the two had said to each other to cause Stiles to be so upset but she knew if she bombarded him with questions he would clam up.

Stiles shook his head and took his hand away from hers, leaning back in his chair. “Look,” he said, running a hand through his hair, “I don’t want to get into it but she basically chose that fucking douchebag frat boy over me on my _birthday_.”

Malia narrowed her eyes for a moment before she controlled her expression. “Was she really _choosing_ him over you, though?” she asked, trying not to sound condescending, “I mean, she did already see you today.”

After hearing that, Stiles lifted his beer to his mouth and took a long sip to mask his expression. Malia didn’t get it. Lydia was one of the most important people in his life and it had felt like a punch to the gut when she had told him she wanted to essentially fuck Carter instead of coming out for his birthday. As well as that, Stiles had always seen her fights with other girls and occasionally guys in high school but after moving in with her he never, _ever_ , thought he would be on the receiving end of that nastiness.

Not to mention she had said some awful things. He determinedly _wasn’t_ upset over the fact that Carter had more of her attention than him these days. He was with Malia now. He didn’t care. He _couldn’t_ care.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whooooooa things are getting tense. i hope you guys dont think this is OOC or anything, i tried to explain the reasoning for this fight as best i could. exciting things in the next few chapters!!! that being said my exams are coming up so i dont know how often i'll be able to update but i will try my best :)))) reviews are life <3 <3


	14. The Moment

The next week or so passed without any other drama but there weren’t any apologies either. Lydia had always been unable to swallow her pride and this was no exception. Stiles also refused to make the first move, he knew he’d said some cutting words but the hurt still lingered from the red-head’s sudden cold-shoulder. He was sure they would make up eventually so he wasn’t going to give in first.

They existed in relative harmony following the fight, exchanging sentences like _what you do want for dinner?_ and _are you sleeping here tonight?_ but it was only due to convenience. If they weren’t living together they sure as well wouldn’t have said a single word to each other. The pair were currently in the middle of revision week as well, it lessened the need to be out in the living room. Lydia was almost always in her bedroom, sometimes studying and sometimes ‘ _studying_ ’. Even Malia seemed to be at the apartment less frequently.

Lydia zoned out while finishing a math problem set for the umpteenth time, unable to stop her mind from drifting to that night. It was such a fucking mess that she outwardly cringed every time she thought about it. How did birthday plans turn into a cutting argument and then into fucking a guy on her kitchen counter? She was pretending she didn’t already know it was her pride and insecurities that were to blame.

She normally would’ve apologised to Stiles by now, knowing that it was her fault the fight happened in the first place but every time she had the urge to talk to him about it those words repeated themselves in her mind.  

_Well maybe you just hate the fact that Malia has all of my attention and you have none of it._

God, it still stung just as much as it did when he said it. Lydia rubbed her chest absentmindedly, trying to sooth her thundering heartbeat. She still couldn’t believe that Stiles, her Stiles, said those words to her. Stiles, the same boy that took her on midnight drives when she was feeling down and frequently quoted Toy Story in conversation, was _so_ quick to cut her down. It fucking hurt. It hurt so much that she couldn’t fully comprehend it.

Lydia supposed she only had herself to blame for getting so completely attached.

“Lydia!” Stiles yelled from the kitchen, bringing her back to Earth.

She huffed and stood up from her desk, mentally preparing herself to see him face to face.

“What?” she asked flatly as she opened her door. She supposed she could still be fearsome her in her classic study drab; tracksuit pants and a hoodie.  She had decided to put the hood up, feeling like it sent out a _don’t fuck with me_ vibe.

Stiles took in her appearance and quickly averted her eyes. That was how he was talking to her these days, not looking her in the eyes, like he knew he had done something wrong. He sighed before opening his mouth, “Do you want to get take away?” he asked.

“Sure.”

“What do you want?” Stiles questioned, exaggeratedly sighing again like dealing with Lydia was _such_ an immense chore.

The particularly annoying thing about their fight was the timing, smack bang in the middle of the exam period. Lydia knew she got particularly snappy when she was stressed and could bet most of her savings that Stiles did too. Tensions were at an all-time high.

Lydia smiled tightly. “I don’t know, Stiles, you can be brave and make a decision for yourself.”

Stiles slowly put both of his hands flat on the bench and let his head hang down for a moment. He breathed deeply before turning to her with a certain tiredness in his expression that Lydia had seen too much of lately. “Why do you feel the need to make everything so difficult?” He asked her.

A frown fell upon Lydia’s face against her will, she felt indignity rising in her throat. She opened her mouth to give him a witty response but closed it again when she realised she had nothing to say for herself. She was being difficult. She couldn’t deny that she was being childish. And why? All because she let his words get past all of her barriers and root themselves in her brain. Now she was unable to shake them, and she wouldn’t be able to until he showed some form of remorse.

“I’m not hungry anymore,” she lied, “just get something for yourself.”

Lydia stayed just long enough to see Stiles’ features soften then abruptly turned and escaped to her room. She thought she heard him call after her but a knock on the door never came. For the rest of night, Lydia cranked up her _Classical Study Music_ playlist and sentenced herself to five more math problems every time her mind wandered.

 

* * *

  

As soon as the invigilators told everybody in the exam hall to put their pens down, Lydia felt her shoulders relax with the weight that had been lifted off them. She patiently waited for all of the papers to be collected, managing to contain the sudden energy buzzing through her finger tips. She kind of felt like Stiles with his jerky movements and weird urgency.

The pair still hadn’t made up but Lydia was determinedly not thinking about it now. Her last exam was finished. She was free.

Well, free for a month.

As soon as a disembodied voice told the multitude of relieved students that they could leave the hall in an orderly fashion, Lydia was out of her seat and hurriedly making her way to her car. On the way home she thought about all the things she was going to do when she got there. Maybe she’d go for a run. No! Maybe she’d finally catch up on The Walking Dead. She could really do anything.

When Lydia finally got through the front door and saw that Stiles wasn’t home she felt like all of the pent up energy she’d had only moments ago suddenly dissipate out of her body. She dropped her bag onto the clean carpet floor and glanced at her bed. It looked so inviting. So comfortable. She had enough sense to change into sweats and undo her braid before sinking into the plush mattress.

She realised she forgot to close her blinds as soon as she was tucked in but couldn’t bring herself to care. Her eyelids heavily drooped until all she could see was black and her mind shut down. She couldn’t help the contented sigh that left her mouth, sleeping peacefully for the first time in two weeks.  

 

* * *

 

Stiles pushed his keys into the apartment lock and opened the front door, juggling two bags of groceries. He unpacked the contents of the bags while in the kitchen and put the receipt aside so Lydia could pay him back.

With a sudden jolt he remembered that today was her last exam. They weren’t on good terms by any means at the moment but he still hoped she had done well. He hated seeing her stressed out. Stiles checked his watch, she should be home by now. He made his way to her room to see if she had her exam timetable out in the open but stopped short when he saw her.

Lydia was fast asleep, red hair fanned out on the pillow beneath her head. The corners of her lips were turned upwards. Stiles couldn’t help the affectionate smile that crept onto his face, never in all this time that they had lived together had he known her to have a nap in the middle of the day. She must have been really exhausted.

It was hard to be mad at her when he saw her like this. Her face was soft, expression more passive than he’d seen in the last few weeks. Stiles found it easy to forget that she had been hurt by his words as well, especially when she had been so mean to him lately. At least he had Malia to turn to when Lydia was being particularly unpleasant. She had no one. He doubted Carter was able to offer any kind of emotional support.

Lydia shifted suddenly in her sleep, letting out a quiet sigh that hitched in her throat and Stiles helplessly lurched forward. As though she sensed his presence, her eyes slowly opened. She seemed unsurprised to see him standing there, still groggy with sleep. She stretched, arching her back and making the kind of noise that sent Stiles’ mind to an improper place.

“Hey.” Lydia greeted softly, smiling at him like she used to when she thought he wasn’t looking. Stiles wished he could deny the effect it had on him. He wanted so desperately for things to go back to normal between the two of them. She was beyond important to him and he couldn’t imagine why he went so long without apologising to her.

With a kind of magnetism that he couldn’t quite explain even if he wanted to, he was drawn to her. He crossed her room in slow steps, toeing off his shoes and climbing under the covers. “Hey.” He replied, feeling beyond content, lying centimetres away from her face.

The sunlight was streaming through her window and illuminating Lydia’s face, showing Stiles the faint smattering of freckles across her nose. Her eyes usually looked hazel in low light, but now they were a brilliant chartreuse. If he looked close enough he could see the bumps and imperfections in her irises.

Stiles dragged his eyes away from hers for a moment to memorise the details of her face while it was here, so close to his and looking more beautiful than ever. He cleared his throat after a long stretch of silence. “How was your exam?” he asked.

Lydia smiled, touched that he even remembered that it was her last one today. “Aced it.” She told him.

“Of course you did.”

Lydia huffed out a quiet laugh, it felt like if she let the volume get too high it would shatter the serenity of this moment.

“Are you coming to the after exams party tonight?” Stiles asked her softly.

Lydia sighed. “I wasn’t going to,” she began, but when she saw his crest-fallen face she made up her mind, “but I think I can shift my schedule around.”

He felt relief coursing through his body in an instant. Maybe there was hope for their relationship after all. The pair went silent for a minute and Lydia let her eyes drift closed, still sleepy. Stiles almost let himself close his eyes as well, contented to just sleep here for a while but they still hadn’t actually talked about what had happened on his birthday. Now was as good of a time as any.

“I have to tell you something.” Stiles murmured, voice low. Lydia started slightly and opened her eyes. She lifted her hand to her face, nervously scratching a non-existent itch on her nose. He slowly reached out to clasp the appendage, wanting to sooth her twitchy movements.

“What?” Lydia asked apprehensively, ignoring the swoop in her stomach when Stiles began playing with her fingers.

He noticed that her nail polish was chipping, it was a sight he hadn’t seen before. She must’ve been _really_ stressed. “I’m sorry.” Stiles told her, inspecting her thin fingers so he didn’t have to look at her eyes. “I’m sorry for what I said. You’ll always have my attention.”

Lydia felt the remaining tension leave her shoulders and sighed in relief. Now they could finally go back to normal. She was suddenly struck with the urge to cry, lower lip trembling with the effort not to. She had tried to convince herself she wasn’t _that_ cut up about what Stiles had said to her but she was lying. It was so hard to face him afterwards, when all she wanted to do was cave first and apologise or forgive him, even though he didn’t seem to feel bad. But he did. She could see that now, guilt was written all over his face. She had been just as awful to him, if not more, and he was hurt too. But here he was, swallowing his pride and apologising first. She shouldn’t have doubted him for a moment.

Stiles noticed her expression and let go of her hand, placing his palm on her cheek. “Hey.” He muttered soothingly, thumb stroking her cheekbone. “Please, don’t cry.”

Lydia tried to smile, eyes shining, but it never moved past a grimace. “I – uh –” she began, pausing to take a deep breath, “I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have cancelled on your birthday…I was just feeling strange. Can you forgive me?”

With a sympathy etched into his features, Stiles moved closer to Lydia. “Consider it forgotten.” He told her, tucking a few stray hairs behind her ear with the same hand that spanned her whole face only moments ago.

Lydia’s breath caught in her throat at the gesture and she slowly reached out, placing her small hand on his neck. Her touch was light, smooth extremities feathering over the slight stubble there. She could feel his pulse quicken underneath his fingertips.

“Sti –” She began, but cut herself off when he pitched forward. His chest and the upper thighs were only an inch away from hers, she could _feel_ it under the blanket. Lydia was suddenly hot all over, unable to stop herself from feeling the heat from his close proximity. This was unlike anything she’d ever experienced with him. Stiles was looking at her with an unreadable expression, his hand was gripping the side of her face now, the rough pad of his thumb catching on her soft skin.

Lydia responded in kind, shifting impossibly closer to him. Her eyes were caught on the bobbing muscles in his throat as he swallowed hard, when she dragged them back up to meet his she could see he was staring at her lips.

 _Don’t think, Lydia,_ her mind urged her, _just do it_.

She slowly inched forward, like she was approaching a skittish animal but Stiles wasn’t moving away. He could see it happening and he wasn’t moving. Lydia took this as a positive sign and continued the torturous pace. She was close enough that when he breathed sharply she could feel it fan over her mouth. Her heartbeat was beating so fast that she could hear her pulse behind her ears. This was really happening. She was about to kiss him.

Just as the soft skin of her lips touched the rough skin of his there was a sharp knock at the apartment door. Stiles jerked away from her and muttered something with the name _Malia_ standing out and Lydia wanted to die on the spot. He left her room on unsteady feet, closing the door behind him and left Lydia with her face in her hands, once again having no fucking common sense when it came to him.

They had almost _kissed_. Why had she let that happen? He was involved with Malia and now Lydia had made her intentions awfully clear.

This party was going to be hell.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oooooooooh an almost kiss!!! the third party is next and we all know what happens at parties ;))))) i might not be able to update for a week or so because of exams but we'll see how it goes :)))) reviews are life <3


	15. The Third Party

Lydia sat in silence for a few moments after she watched Stiles exit her room. She could hear him greeting Malia through the door, figuring he was kissing her in the seconds of quietness.  

She closed her fingers over her eyes, blocking out the light streaming in from her window and pressing down hard enough to see swirling stars in the black of her eyelids. She tried to remember Stiles’ expression when he was lying opposite her only a minute ago. Had he even been aware of what she was doing? Maybe she just imagined the feather light touch of her lips against his.

Lydia considered bailing on this dumb party but reasoned that it would probably set her and Stiles back a few too many steps. Before that bizarre moment they had made up after all. She couldn’t let a trance-like compulsion ruin their tentative friendship right now. She could ignore her current thundering heartbeat and flushed cheeks. She could pretend everything was fine for a night.

Her blood ran cold as she realised that Stiles might not want her to come to the party after what just happened. Maybe she had already ruined the progress they had made when she tried to kiss him. He hadn’t said a word directly to her after Malia had knocked on the door. Lydia prayed that they weren’t back to square one.

With unsteady feet, Lydia rose from her horizontal position, dangling her bare feet over the side of her bed. She needed to get a read off of Stiles. It was time to face the music.

Lydia stood up and walked to her door, uncharacteristically not caring about her rumpled sweats and knotted hair. She took a deep breath before swinging the door open and coming face to face with Stiles and Malia.

“Hey, Lydia,” Malia greeted her, smile tight. The girl had obviously found out about what Lydia had said to Stiles on his birthday and wasn’t impressed. Lydia was relieved to find that Malia was still attempting to be nice to her, though, even when things had been so strained lately. She can’t have known that Lydia and Stiles had finally made up only moments ago.

“Hey,” Lydia replied, averting her eyes from the brunette beauty to look at Stiles.

He was intentionally avoiding her gaze, finding something on the floor more fascinating than Lydia’s scrutinizing look. She wanted to slap him upside the head. Coward.

“Are you coming to the party tonight?” Malia asked her, drawing Lydia’s attention away from Stiles.

At this point Stiles did look up; Lydia could see it out of the corner of her eye. She turned slightly, catching his eye and trying to read his expression. He didn’t look angry or disappointed. In fact, he didn’t have any kind of emotion written on his face. It was neutral and relaxed. He wasn’t giving her any indication of what he was feeling, annoyingly enough. He wanted her to decide.

“Uh –” Lydia stuttered, trying to deliberate quickly. “Yeah, I guess so. Why not?”

“Great.” Malia responded, there was an edge of sarcasm in her words but Lydia couldn’t bring herself to begrudge the girl for it. She hadn’t been very nice to Stiles lately.

“We’re going to start pre-drinking now,” Stiles said, still not directly addressing Lydia, “I kind of don’t feel like playing beer bong tonight.”

Lydia nodded. She couldn’t disagree with that. “Okay, I’ll just get ready then.” She told the two of them.

Once she was alone again in her bedroom, Lydia put on a generic Spotify party playlist and started looking for something to wear. It was time to get in the zone. She felt like she had lost so much of her personality while studying and fighting with Stiles. This was a chance to get drunk, have fun and finally feel like herself again. Stiles could avoid her all he wanted, she wasn’t going to let it stop her from having a good time tonight. 

Lydia settled on a blue bandage dress that clung to every inch and strappy heels that laced all the way up to her knees. She breathed a sigh of relief when she checked herself out in the mirror. This was the real Lydia.

Stiles and Malia were practically gaping at her when she exited her room and Lydia inwardly preened. “So,” she began, joining them at the table, “what are we playing?”

“King’s Cup,” Malia answered, giving her a small smile and filling one of the spare cups with a mixture of vodka and raspberry soda. When she passed it to Lydia the red-head raised her eyebrows but said nothing. She always had a good night on vodka.

The trio continued playing the card game for an hour or so. Lydia had to skull the King’s Cup, which could only be described as a shocking concoction of beer, vodka and soda. It was horrific but she downed it in a few seconds, impressing Stiles and Malia. After that the pleasant haze that she had been feeling turned into an unforgiving fog that blanketed her mind. When she tried to focus on the cards or Stiles and Malia’s faces, her vision swayed and shifted.

“Shall we?” Stiles asked the two girls. He was feeling comfortably tipsy and was probably the most sober out of the trio. He was fantastic at King’s Cup after all.

Malia was finishing her mixed drink and slammed it back down on the table, shaking her head to the beat of their _pump up_ playlist. Lydia nodded and tossed the remaining cards in the air, scattering them around the table and on the floor. She was at the point where she couldn’t care less about personal property.

The three of them gathered their things and the nearly empty bottle of vodka for the journey over. On the bus they were obnoxiously loud, visibly annoying all of the other civilians. Soon enough they were walking up the familiar frat house steps. The music was blaring and Lydia felt a surge of giddiness compel her to envelop Stiles in an uncoordinated hug. He embraced her back for a moment before seeming to remember himself and stiffened in her arms.

It was obvious enough that Lydia was able to notice his aversion, even in her drunken stupor. She immediately unattached herself from his side and raced forward, greeting the boy at the door.

“Lydia,” he remarked, holding her at arm’s length and checking out her figure, “you look hot, as always.”

“Thanks,” She replied happily. When she leaned in to kiss him on the cheek she misjudged the depth and her lips slid against the corner of his mouth.

“Um,” Stiles remarked from behind her, never seeing Lydia kiss a boy _accidentally_ in all the time he had known her.

“Whoops!” Lydia cried, laughing airily and disappearing into the house, leaving the poor door boy stunned.

Stiles and Malia exchanged a worried glance and quickly followed her. She was drunker than either of them realised and had managed to escape with the bottle of vodka. When they finally spotted her fiery hair in the crowd she was hugging Carter.

“Lydia!” Stiles called, tapping her shoulder to get her attention.

Lydia untangled herself from the blonde frat boy and turned to face them, an easy smile on her face. “What’s up?” she asked, keeping one arm looped around Carter’s neck for balance.

“Vodka.” Malia commanded, holding her hand out like a stern mother. Lydia had forgotten she was even holding the nearly empty glass bottle. She complacently handed it to Malia and turned back to face Carter, sloppily kissing the underside of his jaw.

Stiles quickly averted his eyes and looked at Malia. “What do you want to do?” he asked her, gesturing to the intoxicated red-head.

Malia shrugged and took a swig from the bottle in her hand. She immediately spluttered and choked on the burning liquid, inwardly deciding to never do that again. “She seems okay,” Malia said nonchalantly, voice raspy from the coughing fit, “come on, Stiles, I want to dance.”

“Yeah,” Stiles muttered, feeling something like uneasiness creep up his throat before turning away from Lydia and Carter, “yeah, let’s go.”

Malia grinned and took his hand, invitingly tugging him towards the dance floor. When they found an empty pocket among the throng of teenagers they started moving. Stiles smiled easily, gripping and tugging at Malia’s hips. She was so easy to be with. She was dependable and just _there_ all the time. It was comfortable, it made his heart beat steadily in his chest.

After a few songs and a few painful sips of straight vodka, Stiles remembered that he should probably check on Lydia. He kissed Malia on the cheek and pointed in the general direction that Lydia had been in around an hour ago. Malia seemed to understand what he was doing and waved him off.

Stiles sighed in relief when he found Lydia in the vicinity of where he saw her last, thankful that he wouldn’t have to search for her in the busiest party yet. He was less thankful that he had to cop an eyeful of her current position. She was straddling Carter on the nearby couch, kissing him messily and eagerly. When she ran her hand through his brown hair Stiles hazily did a double take.

The boy she was kissing was certainly _not_ Carter. Stiles rushed over to the pair, sharply tugging Lydia back from the stranger’s grip.

“Ow!” she cried, stumbling off of the couch and rubbing her shoulder. “What did you do that for?”

“What are you doing?”

“Kissing that guy,” Lydia slurred, turning back towards the nameless boy with a sly smile.

Stiles helped steady her by grabbing her elbows. “Where is Carter?” he asked demandingly, tipping Lydia’s face up towards his.

The red-head scrunched up her nose and thought about it for a moment. “Um,” she said, “bathroom or something?”

Stiles narrowed his eyes disbelievingly and pulled her a few feet away from the boy sitting on the couch, who watching their exchange in a daze. “So you just decided to hook up with this random guy?”

Lydia shrugged.

Stiles nodded with his lips tightly pressed together. “Okay, we’re going.” He stated, leaving no room for argument. “Stay here.”

Lydia just shrugged again and sat down next to the boy on the couch, intertwining her fingers with his.

After that ordeal and struggling to find Malia, Stiles was feeling significantly more sober. When he finally found her, she was still dancing and the vodka bottle was nowhere to be seen.

“We’re going.” He told her, grabbing her hand to bring her to where Lydia was sitting but Malia didn’t budge.

“What? No.” She refused, a frown settling over her face, “I don’t want to leave yet.”

Stiles huffed in frustration and dropped her hand. “Lydia’s too drunk, I need to take her home.” He said.

Malia rolled her eyes. “Just leave her, she’ll be fine.” She tried to reason, “come on, dance with me!”

Unable to comprehend what he was hearing, Stiles lowered his face into his hands. When he looked up, she was still frowning at him. “Malia,” he started, thoroughly fed up, “Lydia is kissing some random guy. She would never _ever_ do that if she wasn’t so drunk. We need to take her home.”

“No!” Malia replied defiantly, “She just wants attention. Can we please stay?”

Stiles tilted his head, trying to get a better look at her so he could try to understand what she was saying to him. “How could you say that?” he asked, hurt on Lydia’s behalf, “I thought you guys were friends.”

Malia sighed. “We _are_ friends and I do like her but I don’t want to help her right now.” She told him, “She was really mean to you.”

“We made up!” Stiles voiced, unbelievably frustrated by not being able to knock sense into the girl. “Even if we hadn’t I would still take her home. This is ridiculous, _let’s go._ ”

“No.” Malia said again, stance resolute and eyes hard. “If you take her home, I will not speak to you again.”

Time seemed slow when Stiles heard that. All he could focus on was Malia’s thinly veiled anger. How could she give him such an ultimatum? He tried to imagine Malia ignoring him and shied away from the thought, instantly uncomfortable. Then he imagined them staying here and Lydia kissing another stranger. She would probably slip away from him again and go home with someone she would never go home with when she was sober. No. Stiles couldn’t let that happen. He would never forgive himself.

“I’m sorry, Malia,” Stiles said sadly, watching a dejected expression fall across the girls face, “but it’s _Lydia_.”

Malia looked like she wanted to cry for a moment before her expression hardened and she turned away, disappearing into the crowd.

Stiles pushed the panic aside and breathed deeply, choosing to focus his attention on finding the slippery red-head. When he returned to the couch, she was thankfully still there. She was either passed-out or asleep, however. Stiles desperately hoped it was the latter.

“Lydia,” Stiles said, grabbing her shoulder and shaking it roughly.

Lydia awoke with a start and had momentary trouble focussing on him. “Stiles!” she exclaimed excitedly when she recognised who it was that woke her.

Stiles found that he couldn’t help smiling at her drunk antics and helped her up from the couch. Not trusting her to walk on her own, he clasped her tiny hand within his and winded his way through the crowd to the front door.

“Where are we going?” Lydia asked breathlessly, swinging their joined hands back and forth in a wide arc once they exited the house.

“Home,” Stiles answered, concentrating on ordering an Uber with only one hand. He could’ve let Lydia’s go by now but it was warm and she seemed happy to play with it.

“Oh,” Lydia pouted exaggeratedly before using Stiles’ hand to twist him around in a circle. Her heels made it harder for her to stay upright and after a particularly bad stumble she found herself propped up against his chest.

He lowered his head, looking distracted and slightly disapproving but didn’t make any move to distance himself from her. Drunk Lydia took this as a small victory and beamed up at him, letting his familiar warmth seep into her cold skin. She could’ve fallen asleep against his chest like that had the Uber not arrived only minutes later. Lydia animatedly chatted to the driver the whole way home, asking him about his hobbies and aspirations. He seemed happy to answer her stream of questions.

When they got out of the car and thanked the driver, Lydia pranced up to the apartment with Stiles walking bemusedly behind her. While she twirled and climbed on various objects, Stiles pushed any and all thoughts of Malia out of his mind.

“Stiles,” Lydia sing-songed, dragging out each vowel and turning to face him, “cheer up, buttercup.”

Stiles huffed a laugh and decided that he liked this version of Lydia. Not the sloppy, unable-to-make-her-own-decisions aspect, but the care-free, giddy quality. He had always respected how guarded she was but it was refreshing to see this side of her. She must’ve been relieved to let go like this after the stress of these past few months.

They reached their front door and Lydia propped her arms up against Stiles’ back while he unlocked the door. He had to shake his head and remind himself that she wasn’t normally this touchy-feely with him, and he shouldn’t be either, considering that Malia was back at the party. Not that that gave him any comfort. She was very upset with him and it was so easy to relax back into the addictive contact Lydia was maintaining with him.

Her skin was so warm and soft.

 _No, Stiles!_ his mind reprimanded. This wasn’t the time for wandering eyes. Even though this scenario with Lydia was something he’d dreamed of since he first saw her drunk at a high-school party.

Stiles shook himself out of his reverie and pushed the door open, causing him and Lydia to stumble inside. She bee-lined straight for the couch and Stiles let her lay down for a moment while he went into her bedroom and picked out clean pyjamas from her closet.

“Lydia,” he said softly, crouching down so he was at eye level with her. When she cracked open her eyes she looked bizarrely sober. The pair stared at each other for several magnetic moments before Lydia scrunched up her face and leapt off the couch. When she reached the bathroom, Stiles heard the tell-tale retching and winced sympathetically.

He quickly made his way to her and gathered her long red tresses into a bunch at the nape of her neck, knowing that if she got anything in her hair she would probably break down. Trying not to gag himself at the unappealing sounds, Stiles waited while Lydia emptied the contents of her stomach. His hand soothed circles over her back repeatedly.

When Lydia was finished throwing up she made for the sink and rinsed her mouth straight from the tap. “Ugh,” she groaned, face appropriately disgusted, “that was awful. I’m surprised you didn’t spew yourself.”

Stiles laughed and took his hand away from her back, “I almost did,” he told her honestly. She seemed significantly less drunk than before but there was still a slight sway to her step and heaviness to her eyelids.

Lydia felt thoroughly revolting and knew she would regret letting Stiles see her like this when she woke up tomorrow morning. For now though, she was still feeling the effects of the copious amount of alcohol she consumed. She was at a familiar level of tipsy. Unfortunately, it was the level where she wasn’t able to stop her mouth from saying things. It was the level she would confess anything to anyone.

“Feeling better?” Stiles asked, smoothing his hand over her copper hair.

He was looking at her too fondly, Lydia was starting to panic. “Yeah,” she answered, letting a smile form on her lips and leaning into him slightly. “You’re a really good friend.”

Stiles’ cheeks reddened and he looked down, smiling at the ground. Lydia inwardly screamed; this was what she was afraid of. The word vomit had begun.

“No really, Stiles,” she said, “I know we just had a fight but I’ll never think you’re a bad friend. I – uh, I actually really missed you.”

Stiles was speechless, staring at her nervous expression intently.

“I don’t ever want to fight with you again. I hate not talking to you….I actually need to tell you something.”

 _Oh god_ , Lydia thought, _here it comes_.

“I know you’re with Malia,” Lydia began, unable to stop the flow of words, “but I just need to tell you. I –oh god….I have fee- ”

Lydia’s words died in her throat as the apartment was plunged into darkness. The universe was looking at her favourably tonight as pure terror took over every thought and the confession she was about to mistakenly make was forgotten.

“Stiles!” She cried, frantically waving her arms around in search for him in the pitch black of the apartment.

Lydia felt his strong arms grip her, instantly calming her down. “It’s okay,” he told her, voice disembodied, “it’s just a power outage.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y'alllllllll shit is really happening!! sorry about the slow update but im on holidays now so i'll be able to update much more frequently yaaaaay. NEXT CHAPTER IS GONNA BE LIT FAM. reviews are life <3


	16. The Blackout

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning: mature content
> 
> ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) look away while you still can kiddies

“A power outage?” Lydia echoed. She was still gripping onto Stiles’ forearms so she wasn’t enveloped in the darkness alone, afraid that if she broke contact with him she wouldn’t find it again.

Stiles hummed and looked around. His eyes were beginning to adjust with the help of the moonlight entering the room through the small bathroom window. He could just make out the reflection in Lydia’s widened eyes. She looked terrified.

“Lydia,” he said, reassurance lacing his voice. She blinked a couple of times and slowly focussed on the whites of his eyes. “It’s okay. It’s just a blackout.”

Lydia breathed in relief, letting his assured tone sooth her frightened heartbeat. Her hand stayed attached to his arm as he fished his phone out of his pocket, turning the torch on. Both of their eyes easily adjusted and they looked at each other with small smiles on their faces, feeling the stupidity of the moment.

Stiles began to move out of the bathroom, forcing Lydia to follow him. Her hand was holding him like an iron vice. There was more moonlight from the transparent balcony doorway streaming into the living room than the bathroom so Stiles turned off his phone torch. Lydia shivered, the natural moonlight and silence had an eerie effect on the room.

“I don’t like this.” Lydia whispered, stepping a few inches closer to Stiles.

He looked down at her and let out a quiet snicker. She was pretty cute when she was afraid of the dark. “It’s okay, Lydia.” He told her with a fond smile on his face. “Do we have any candles?”

“Candles?” Lydia repeated incredulously, “we’re college students, not middle aged moms.”

Stiles snorted. “Speak for yourself,” He said, mock-offended.

Lydia rolled her eyes, letting go of his arm and elbowing him in the ribs.  “Okay, _Suzanne_. What’s the plan?”

“What do we need a plan for?” Stiles asked, rubbing the spot on his side where Lydia’s elbow had made contact.

Lydia’s furrowed her brow and popped her hip. “It’s freezing. The heater hasn’t been on all night.”

As if on cue, she shivered. Stiles abruptly tensed, when they’d entered the apartment earlier that night he was too preoccupied with an intoxicated Lydia to think about the cold. Neither of them had brought a jacket to the party because when they’d left home the alcohol had warmed them sufficiently. Now that Lydia had mentioned the temperature, Stiles was suddenly painfully aware of the cold air enveloping the two of them and the goose-bumps rising on his skin.

“Shit,” He muttered.

“Yeah,”

“Do you think our blankets will be warm enough?” Stiles asked her, crossing his arms over himself and trying to rub some warmth into his skin.

Lydia considered it for a moment. She was always cold when she slept. Even when the heater had been running all evening she needed second thin blanket under her covers. At this temperature, it would be like camping outside and she wasn’t ready for that tonight. Another problem was the lack of extra blankets they had in the apartment, because they were poor college students they only had two other thin ones. It wasn’t enough for either of them.

“I really don’t think so.” Lydia told him honestly.

“Damn,”

“Yeah,” Lydia agreed, “is Malia coming back?”

Stiles felt colder than before, if that was even possible. He had completely forgotten about his fight with her, although, he could hardly call it a fight. It was an ultimatum. A mistake on her part, all he was trying to do was be a good friend. Stiles swallowed his hurt pride. “No,” he said, “she’s not coming.”

Lydia raised an eyebrow but didn’t push him for an explanation, sensing that he didn’t want to talk about it. Her heartbeat quickened when she realised what that meant. If the blankets weren’t going to be warm enough and it was only going to be the two of them here, that would mean –

“We’re going to have to sleep in the same bed.” Lydia concluded, eyes comically wide.

Stiles snorted at the ridiculousness of the situation before realising that she was seriousness. “Oh,” he offered, “are you sure?”

Lydia inwardly cringed at his reluctance, swallowing the hurt. “You don’t _have_ to…”

“No,” Stiles urged, “no. I just, uh, never thought I’d hear that sentence from you. Let’s do it, I don’t want you to get cold.”

Lydia sighed in relief and smiled at him, moving towards the bathroom. “Okay, I’ll just brush my teeth. Did you grab my pyjamas or did I just imagine that?”

“They’re on the couch.” Stiles told her, navigating the living room in the darkness to get to his bedroom. When he was changed into his own pyjamas and had grabbed a blanket he walked over to Lydia’s room, stopping before opening the door. He breathed deeply and steeled himself within. He was about to get into bed next to the girl of his dreams since 3rd grade, he needed to relax. He could handle this.

When he knocked on the door and was told to come in, he could just make out Lydia’s silhouette. She was lying in her bed, covers pulled back invitingly. Stiles wasn’t sure he could handle this.

He approached the bed in the dark, stumbling over Lydia’s discarded heels and draped the blanket he was holding over the bed. She said nothing when he climbed in beside her, instantly feeling warmer with his close proximity. The moonlight illuminated her face angelically, she glanced at him for a moment before turning over and facing the wall. Stiles creased his brow but said nothing.

When he pulled the covers over the two of them Lydia tensed. When it was still and dark and quiet she could still feel the buzz pulsing through her veins. She could’ve sworn it heightened her senses. Lydia could feel Stiles’ quick breath fan out her on the back of her neck, despite him being a foot away from her. She could feel the textured blanket rub on her exposed skin, raising the hairs there. She could feel her heart beating violently; if it beat any harder she was sure it would burst right out of her chest.

Lydia swallowed, rubbing her legs together to ease some of the nervous energy her body was building up. This was a terrible idea. She should’ve just braved the cold. Being this close to Stiles in the dark and still feeling deliciously hazy was a terrible combination. She needed to concentrate on keeping her distance and falling asleep.

Stiles struggled behind her, pushing every untoward thought out of his mind and willing his hands to stay against his chest. She was right in front of him, moving slightly underneath the covers and he wasn’t on speaking terms with Malia at this point in time. It was dangerous.

More exhausted than she thought, Lydia fell asleep quickly. Unsurprisingly, it was a fitful sleep; she always had a jerky sleep when she went to bed drunk. Every few minutes she awoke slightly, brain muddled and foggy, tossing and turning when she felt too hot and then too cold. It was uncomfortable. She could hear herself making sounds of unease, little noises that got caught in her throat.

Stiles was moving too. Fidgeting when slept like he did when he was awake. The noises of discomfort and rustling sheets bordered on the edge of his consciousness. Unthinkingly, he reached out, trying to sooth the whimpers with his touch. His hand landed on soft flesh and the noises quieted, turning into a contented hum. He moved closer to the source of the sounds, bracketing Lydia’s waist with his arm. He was faintly aware that he was touching bare skin; she must’ve hiked her shirt up in all the restless movements.

Lydia sighed again, suddenly feeling at ease. She found the perfect temperature in the hold of the warm arm and shifted backwards, chasing the source of the heat. Soon, she was nestled against the hard lines of Stiles’ body.

They slept for a little while, finally comfortably arranged. Stiles became more alert when Lydia jerked in her sleep, accidentally bumping her rear into his pelvis. He breathed deeply, face against her hair, smelling the strawberry conditioner that he always knocked over in the shower. He cautiously moved the arm around her waist, splaying his palm across her stomach.

Lydia’s eyes opened, heartbeat suddenly thundering. She swallowed her nervousness and closed them again, ever so slowly pushing her hips backwards. She could hear and feel Stiles’ shaky exhale against the nape of her neck and waited for him to do something, anything. Lydia’s hairs stood on end, reacting to the electricity she felt warming her body. Stiles lowered his head in a painfully gradual descent and touched his lips against Lydia’s bare shoulder.

The response was immediate. Lydia inhaled sharply and pitched her hips backwards against his crotch, feeling the soft flesh there begin to harden. Stiles maintained the friction against her behind as his fingers flexed against her stomach, kneading the smooth skin and peppering more kisses along her shoulder.

The sensations overwhelmed Lydia in the darkness of the bedroom. It felt like they were in another world, a little world made just for them. This was a dance Lydia had done so many times but never had it felt so _real_. Maybe with Jackson but that was lifetimes ago, this was here and now. This was Stiles.

The Stiles that was lying behind her, squeezing at her skin and grinding into her ass. Lydia was overjoyed to dance the dance a little longer.

One of Stiles’ hands travelled south, dipping beneath the waistband of Lydia’s pyjamas pants. His other snaked underneath her body and contorted upwards, skimming the underside of her breast. She was helpless under his ministrations, the heady sensation of his touch sending a jolt of pleasure straight to her core. He moved his biting kisses to the side of Lydia’s neck and nipped at the flesh there.

With an almost inaudible moan, Lydia placed one hand over Stiles’ and urged it closer to the apex of her thighs and positioned the other between their hips. When she gripped his length he let out a shaky groan. Lydia smiled secretly into her pillow. She was finally getting a taste of what she heard through the wall opposite her a month ago.

The pair rocked back and forth for a while. With Stiles’ hand beginning to circle the small bundle of nerves at her centre and Lydia’s skimming up and down the length of his dick, the room was slowly filled with heavy panting and the smell of sweat.

When Stiles’ fingers suddenly pressed down on Lydia’s clit, she released a surprised moan. A bolt of pleasure shot through her body and caused her grip to tighten around his hardness. Stiles groaned shakily and Lydia didn’t want to be facing away from him for another moment. She repositioned herself in his grip, turning around so she could slide her leg over his hips and settle her sex teasingly above his.

In this position, she could faintly see the expression on Stiles’ face in the low light of the room. He looked impossibly worked up, mouth hanging ajar and pupils blown, he also looked awed, almost _reverent_. Lydia could only imagine that her face mirrored his in the sudden stillness. They stared at each other like that for a moment until she moved her hand through his mussed hair, lightly scratching his scalp.

In a sudden flurry of movement, they were clutching at each other, mouths colliding furiously. Lydia expected his kisses weren’t normally like this but this wasn’t a normal situation. This was a desperate clash of lips. Stiles bit down on her bottom lip punishingly, soothing the spot immediately after with his tongue. Lydia hummed in satisfaction, finally, _finally_ , knowing what it was like to kiss him and circled her fingers around the column of his throat, squeezing lightly.

Save for the muffled groans and hitched sighs, Stiles was uncharacteristically silent. Lydia knew if they were doing this in any other circumstance he wouldn’t have shut up but it was obvious why neither of them could speak, why they were being particularly rough with each other. They knew it was wrong. They also knew that if they didn’t speak, maybe they could pretend it wasn’t real. That is was all part of a ridiculously good dream.

While their lips were pressing together harshly, Stiles skimmed his hands down Lydia’s sides until he reached the fleshy part of her hips. He pushed them down onto the underside of his length, dragging her core back and forth along it with a bruising grip. Lydia was all too happy to help, moving her pelvis in time with his pushes and pulls, feeling the pressure in her abdomen steadily build.

The movement was hitting her clit just right and Lydia’s nerves were alight, carrying the sensation all through her body. She was getting close. Stiles hadn’t stopped kissing her, proving himself to be quite the multi-tasker. He removed one of his hands from her hip and reached up to tangle it in her hair, tugging her head up and away from his lips. He chose to nip at the skin of her throat instead.

Their rhythm began to stutter and intensify as they both neared climax. Lydia ached to remove the cloth barriers and just let him fill her up but she couldn’t bring herself to stop this delicious friction. Stiles’ touch grew desperate as she lowered her face against his neck, crying out as the forceful pleasure grew within her. She was _so_ close. Another few seconds and she –

A brilliant red flashed beyond her eyelids and Lydia thanked her lucky stars that she’d closed her eyes in those final moments. The power had come back on.

“Fuck!” Stiles shouted, covering his eyes with both arms and forgetting about the girl above him. The girl that had been unbearably close to release but, once again, thwarted by poor timing.

“Stiles,” Lydia cried, putting her own hands over her eyes and rolling off him. “Get the light!”

She heard the shuffling of fabric as Stiles got out of the bed, blindly searching for the light. When she heard the familiar click, Lydia uncovered her eyes, thankful to see the room blanketed in darkness. When she thought her pupils were ready for the change she turned her bedside lamp on.

Stiles was still standing next to the doorway, hand hovering over the light switch and pants tellingly tented. Lydia averted her eyes and threw herself back down against her pillows. She determinedly pushed down the initial niggling feeling of guilt.

The pair stayed silent for a minute, then Stiles crossed the room and sat on the edge of her bed with his head in his hands. “Jesus,” he muttered.

Lydia couldn’t help the sour, twisted sound of laugh that escaped her mouth in response. The guilt edged against the back of her mind more urgently now, she knew that they wouldn’t be able to downplay the situation.

“I’m obviously not blameless in this scenario,” Lydia started, trying to calm her tangled hair with shaky hands. “But don’t you have a girlfriend?”

Stiles groaned in frustration and lifted his face from his palms, staring at her unwaveringly. “She’s not talking to me because I took you home,” he explained, sounding exasperated.

“I wonder why,” Lydia bit out sarcastically. “So you’re going to tell me you pissed of your girlfriend, realised you wouldn’t be getting off tonight, then thought _oh wait, I have another person of the opposite sex conveniently in bed with me. Problem solved._ ”

“No, that’s not –”

“Save it, Stiles,” Lydia interrupted, holding a hand out to stop him from saying something more offensive. “Whatever the reasons are, this is a royally fucked up situation we’ve gotten ourselves into.”

“I know,” Stiles replied softly. He looked scared.

“You need to tell Malia.”

“I know.”

Lydia sighed, taking pity on the abnormally quiet boy. She pushed back the inner turmoil, knowing she could just let herself feel it when he left the room and wrapped her arms around him from behind. “I can’t even begin to sum up how I feel about this, Stiles,” Lydia began, speaking soothingly into his ear, “but I know it’s going to be okay.”

It was a lie. She had no fucking clue how this was going to pan out, but she could practically see the panic coursing through Stiles’ head and she had to say something. It hurt her heart to watch him retreat into himself, it was a dull ache underneath her lungs that radiated throughout her body. It made her feel like crying.

Lydia rubbed her hand in circles on his back. “Let’s just talk about this tomorrow.” She advised comfortingly.

Stiles nodded and gave her one final implacable look before wordlessly leaving her bedroom. Lydia reclined back into a horizontal position and turned out her bedside lamp. In the dark, she left herself cry. She let herself feel every warring emotion she could bare.

When she finally closed her eyes and mistakenly rubbed her legs together, feeling the echo of pleasure spark at her centre, she knew she wouldn’t be getting much sleep tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and here she is with the frequent updates. sooooooo that happened lol, lemme know what you guys think ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) just a heads up i wont be updating for over a week because im going on holiday sorryyyyyyy. reviews are life <3


	17. The Conversation

Surprisingly, when Lydia woke up the next morning she was considerably _not_ hungover. It was likely because she was feeling uncomfortably sober when she went to sleep after Stiles left her room last night. Whatever the reason, it didn’t really matter. The weird mixture of warring emotions and dry mouth were making her feel even shittier than if she had had an actual hangover.

She had felt so smug last night, nestled between Stiles’ body and her colourful pillows, but it was an empty victory. This wasn’t Stiles wanting her and _her_ specifically; it was Stiles being sexually frustrated and drunk. It was stupid.

Despite this, Lydia couldn’t deny it was hot. She could still feel that coil of pleasure tighten just a little bit more when she thought about his hands sliding into her underwear. It wasn’t enough, though, because at the end of the day, she was alone in her bed thinking about him and he was in his bed thinking about someone else.

She also couldn’t get rid of the thought that this _wasn’t_ how she wanted it. It was a drunken moment between horny teenagers. Lydia had actual, intense feelings for Stiles and she’d hoped for something….special.

She sighed. This wasn’t going to be easy.

Lydia brushed her hair and tied it back into a ponytail at the nape of her neck. It reflected her tired, flat mood. She looked at her closet, purposely turning away from bright colours and dressed in her ugliest sweatpants. Her hand reached into the dusty back corner of her wardrobe and found the t-shirt that her dad gave her a few weeks before he left. As she pulled it over her head, she let the barely worn fabric remind her that men had been fucking up her head since she was a child. Now was hardly an exception.

She checked her phone once she was dressed and saw a text from Carter. It had been sent an hour ago, asking if she had gotten home safely. Lydia swallowed her guilt and placed the phone back on her bed-side table, deciding to deal with it later.

When she left her room, Lydia walked past Stiles’ closed bedroom door with her chin up and strode straight into the bathroom. She knew she was going to have to face him sooner rather than later but right now it was easier to pretend that she wasn’t partially to blame here.

Lydia stripped off her drab clothes and examined her body in the mirror. There were a few red marks dotted along the column of her neck, nothing a little concealer couldn’t cover up. It seemed Stiles knew how to avoid a full blown love-bite, she wasn’t sure if that excited her or annoyed her. When her hands drifted over her round hips she could feel the slightest tenderness under her fingertips. Lydia closed her eyes against the feeling of her nerve endings lighting up once again, remembering the sensation of Stiles’ punishing grip on her sides.

When her fingers pressed down on a particularly sore spot, Lydia opened her eyes and forcefully shook herself out of her reverie. The marks left on her body last night were barely there and there was no point focusing on them. It wasn’t like she felt negatively about the whole situation, she didn’t feel violated or taken advantage of or anything close to that. In fact, she didn’t really feel…anything. Tired, perhaps. She had enough foresight to know that this was going slowly chip away at her until she had no energy left.

As cynical as she was feeling about everything, however, Lydia still couldn’t bring herself to feel any animosity towards Stiles. She was obviously angry at what had happened, but it was done now. She knew Stiles was going to struggle just as much, if not more, than her and when he was upset Lydia _felt_ it. She hated seeing anything close to sorrow on those sharp features, her heart ached for him. Even last night she couldn’t help but try to comfort him, despite feeling so utterly confused herself.

With yet another weary sigh, she turned on the shower and climbed in. It was easier to think under the blissfully hot water. While shampooing her red tresses Lydia attempted to clear her head, she needed to come up with a vague game-plan for the inevitable fallout.

She wasn’t sure how long it would take for Stiles to tell Malia what happened; he was undoubtedly scared so it could take him a day or so. Either way, Lydia couldn’t logically see him bringing her to the apartment to tell her, which meant that she might not be able to see Malia face to face. If she did, all the red-head could do was apologise, _sincerely_. Malia and Stiles were likely going to break up because of this and that was never Lydia’s intention.

As she grabbed the conditioner bottle and smoothed some into her hair, Lydia thought of what she was going to say to Stiles when they saw each other. She didn’t want to upset him any further so coming in guns blazing was out of the question. She needed to prompt him to tell Malia, though, much more gently than she did last night. Hopefully he wasn’t too mad at her, Lydia didn’t think she could take anything negative from him when she was feeling this vulnerable.

She wanted to cry as she rinsed the conditioner out; she hated being in this position. Lydia felt like a ticking time-bomb, waiting until the numbness wore off and she exploded. She hadn’t felt such a bizarre concoction of dread, anxiety and tiredness since her and Jackson’s tumultuous past. Even then it wasn’t this strong.

Lydia really didn’t want to think about what that meant. She had never loved another boy more than she loved Jackson. She had never loved another boy. Period. But she knew her own mind, and she knew the feeling that her heart could beat right out of her chest meant something scarier than she wanted to admit.

Once she had finished rinsing her hair, Lydia turned the shower off and wrung her red tresses out over her shoulder. She stepped out of the glass cubicle and quickly dried herself off, avoiding the mirror’s harsh reflection. After she’d pulled her ugly clothes over her slightly damp skin, Lydia wrapped her hair up in one of the blue towels. It wasn’t her best look but she abnormally lacked the ever present feeling to put effort into her looks right now. She just didn’t have the energy for it today.

When Lydia left the bathroom, Stiles was standing in the kitchen. He seemed to be in the middle of buttering a slice of toast but had heard the bathroom door being pulled open, consequently, he was now looking straight at her. Lydia hated the way her pulse quickened unbearably and her palms itched. She felt hot all over. She thought she was ready to face him but she really, _really_ wasn’t.

Lydia closed her eyes momentarily and took a calming breath. She lifted her chin up confidently as she internally repeated her mantra, _you are Lydia fucking Martin,_ she told herself reassuringly, _and no boy is going to change that_.

Stiles swallowed and returned to his toast as he saw Lydia approach the kitchen bench in his periphery. He was undeniably anxious, having almost no time to prepare for her entrance as she launched herself out of the bathroom.  He knew he would have to talk to her today, had even come to terms with it, but when he was to face-to-face with the subject of his thoughts it was fucking _nerve-wracking_.

When he had woken up this morning with a headache and very clear recollection of what had happened last night, Stiles honestly wanted to punch himself in the face. He fucked up. Big time. There was no amount of explaining that could possibly convince Malia to forgive him for this. Not that he had a good reason anyway, he was drunk and Lydia was just impossible to resist. Simple as that.

That was another element of stress added to this already stressful situation, the whole Lydia part. He had tried, honestly, he had tried so fucking hard to get over her. He found himself a wonderful girl, she was easy-going and beautiful and just liked _him_ for him, but apparently it wasn’t enough. He did really like Malia, and if she gave him a second chance he was sure he would take it.

Well…he was sure he would take it about thirty seconds ago, before Lydia sprang out of the bathroom. Seeing her in person brought back memories of last night, memories he’d rather forget so he could go into this with a level head. Even looking at her now, the baggy clothes and lack of make-up still did nothing to dim her beauty. She was as radiant as ever.

Stiles lived by the philosophy that the more you got to know a person the more their personality became etched into their face. Lydia was the perfect example of that. He had always seen her physical attractiveness, associating the word _pretty_ with her name ever since he was a kid. Now, he _knew_ her. He knew every kind of Lydia; the witty one, the genius one, the cruel one, the relaxed one, the list went on. He had seen every aspect of her and they all sat on her face now, shining through the furrow of her brow and setting his pulse into overdrive.

He wasn’t sure last night actually meant anything to her, though. She was as unreadable as ever as she walked towards him, chin high and steps purposeful. Stiles knew better than to try to guess what she was going to say, he was just going to have to improvise.

“Hey,” Lydia said determinedly as she sat on one of the bench stools opposite him. Stiles flinched slightly and if she wasn’t watching his expression so closely she might not have noticed. Maybe this was the wrong way to approach the whole thing, she reasoned, Stiles was probably feeling worse than her and coming at him like this would only upset him. Lydia didn’t want that.

“Hey,” He replied after a beat. “Do you want anything to eat?”

Lydia looked down at Stiles’ long fingers as they finished spreading jam over his toast, throat suddenly dry. “I’m good, thanks,” she answered, “I think we should just get right into it.”

Stiles nodded and took a bite of his toast, glad for the small distraction. His course of action from this point depended on what she said now; nervous didn’t even begin to cover what he was feeling. “Well, you seem like you want to say something.” He surmised, motioning for her to speak.

The towel on Lydia’s head began to slip and she pushed it upright with a nervous hand. _Start simple_ , she told herself, exhaling steadily. “What’s your plan for Malia?” She asked him, looking at spot on the kitchen cabinet just beyond his head.

Stiles took another bite of his toast, not really surprised at her directness. “Um,” he sighed, pausing to take another bite, “I guess I’ll ask her to meet up today or tomorrow.”

Lydia nodded, fiddling with an envelope that had been lying on the bench for a couple of weeks. “Okay,” she swallowed, “don’t bring her here though.”

“Why?”

“I don’t really want to be there.” She told him, confused why it wasn’t obvious to him. “And it’ll be too….fresh; to be standing so close to where it happened.”

Stiles slowly put his toast back onto the bench and raised his hands to rub his palms into his eyes. He had really, _really_ fucked up. When was alone he could kid himself into believing that Malia wouldn’t be that hurt. She would, though. This was going to kill her.

Lydia winced as she saw Stiles’ misery, wanting more than anything to reach forward and sooth the worry out from under his eyes. If she could place a hand over his heart and pull out everything that was making him feel like this, she would. Even if that meant pulling herself out as well.

“Yeah,” Stiles said, voice low and laced with guilt. “Yeah, okay.”

He lowered his hands to the bench. Lydia instinctively reached forward to grab them but at the last moment decided not to, letting them sit limply on the linoleum. “I’m sorry,” she told him.

“Sorry?”

“Yeah,” Lydia said, “this is going to be tough for you. I’m sorry I put you in this position.”

Stiles’ head flew backwards in surprise. “You think this is your fault?” He asked disbelievingly, raking a hand through his already messy hair.

Lydia frowned. “I did start it.”

“Wha – I, uh, are you serious?!” Stiles stammered forcefully, looking at her as he tilted his head. “How can you think this is your fault? You were _so_ much drunker than me. I completely took advantage of you.”

Lydia’s mouth hung ajar as she processed what Stiles said. How could he possibly think he took advantage of her? How could he think there was a scenario where she didn’t want him to kiss her? She thought it would be so obvious by now; her feelings for him. Lydia practically jumped on him the second he laid his slender fingers on her ribs. She thought she had been so transparent last night but apparently not. Maybe he thought her desperation for him was standard for every guy she messed around with.

It most certainly wasn’t. No one had gotten her that hot since Jackson and she hadn’t thought anyone could. Not until she heard Stiles and Malia fucking through her bedroom wall so many weeks ago.

It didn’t matter though. Whatever he thought about _it_ , and her, couldn’t affect his chances with Malia. She needed to be selfless for once and just shut this off completely. If Malia didn’t forgive Stiles then Lydia might never get rid of the unwelcome guilt sitting in her abdomen.

“You didn’t,” Lydia paused to swallow, throat suddenly dry. “You didn’t take advantage of me.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, Stiles,” She said, “I’m sure.”

The pair sat in silence for a moment, minds drifting back to the previous night. Stiles was trying to remember if Lydia had given him anything close to a signal that she didn’t want it. He came up short. Not that meant anything, though, it was dark and hazy and he was so unbelievingly worked up that any kind of inkling would’ve flown right over his head.

Lydia was once again unable to stop her mind wandering, she knew she was going to be overanalysing every detail for a very long time. Even after this had all blown over she knew she would be lying in bed, months from now, still remembering his scorching hot hands searing trails on her skin. It was pathetic. She hated future Lydia.

“Look,” she began, snapping Stiles back into reality. “Whoever started it, whoever took advantage of who, it doesn’t matter. It was selfish and stupid and – and a _mistake_. It didn’t….it didn’t mean anything. Okay, Stiles?”

He looked at her fully then, taking in her guarded expression. Lydia seemed serious. As much as it wounded Stiles, somewhere just under his heart, she had said it didn’t mean anything and he believed her. She didn’t want him like that. He needed to finally accept it.

“You’re right,” He told her, “I guess I’ll try to talk to Malia tomorrow.”

Lydia’s smile was tight-lipped. “Good luck, then.”

“Thanks.”

Lydia got up to leave but changed her mind at the last second, choosing to lay her hand over his as it rested on the bench. The touch sparked flesh memory and Stiles fought the swooping feeling that passed through his stomach. He slowly turned his hand over so they were palm to palm, her tiny hand engulfed in his.

Lydia swallowed dryly, regretting the contact she initiated. Everything she felt for him was too intense; she was overwhelmed by her reaction to him as much as ever.

“You’ll get through this.” She told him, voice thick.

“Yeah, I guess.”

“I’m, uh, I’m…always here,” She said awkwardly. Lydia had never been good at comforting people, always too apathetic, but with Stiles it was sincere. She would do anything he asked. “For you, Stiles, I’m always here for you.”

Stiles yanked his hand out from underneath hers, suddenly overcome with emotion. How was he supposed to beg Malia for forgiveness when his heart felt like it was going to beat right out of his chest and splatter on the linoleum beneath him?

Lydia slowly pulled her hand back towards her, nestling it against her chest like it was injured. Well, that was certainly the last time she made any big statements to him. She smiled sweetly at him before retreating from the kitchen bench, hiding her emotions as easily as she breathed. When she reached her bedroom door she spared him one last glance. He was still standing where she left him, staring at his hand like it held the secrets of the universe.

Looked like today was only going to get weirder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so sorry for the long wait guys!! not going to lie, this stuff is kind of hard to write but imma soldier on. Let me know what y'all think... seems like they're both hiding their feelings quite well, annoyingly enough :)))) reviews are life <3


	18. The Conflict

When Lydia closed the door behind her after leaving Stiles in the kitchen she leant against it for a moment, inhaling with a shuddery breath. How he messed with her head so much, she would never know but right now, she needed to pack.

Over the last week Lydia had been so caught up in all the drama and emotional turmoil that she’d forgotten she was going home over Christmas. She would decide what time she left the apartment tomorrow for the four hour drive but it couldn’t any later than four. If she left after that her mom would start nagging her as soon as she walked in the door.

She wasn’t sure if Stiles was coming home as well but she vaguely remembered him mentioning something about spending Christmas with his dad. She hoped that whatever happened, everything with Malia was sorted before they left.

Lydia pushed herself off of the door and shook her head until the towel that was wrapped around her hair hit the floor. Uncharacteristically stepping over the discarded cloth, she crossed her room and stared at the duffel bag sitting on top of her closet. Under any other circumstance she would’ve asked Stiles to reach up and get it for her, given she was not even close to tall enough to reach it, but that was a firm no-go right now. She would just have to improvise.

Good thing she was a genius.

Lydia wheeled her office chair to the base of her wardrobe and carefully stood on top of it. Making sure to have something to grab onto in case she lost her balance – if she fell and broke her neck, her mother would kill her out of spite – then reached up to tug the bag to the floor.

_Success!_

Lydia jumped off the chair gleefully. Who needed men for anything? While she folded various warm clothes, Lydia wondered how Stiles was doing on the other side of the door.

Truth was, he was struggling. He wasn’t ready to tell Malia today but he knew he’d never be ready, so today it was. All he had to do was send the text. As though his body was fighting him every step of the way, Stiles’ fingers painstakingly typed out his message. With a deep breath and a call for inner-courage, he sit send.

_You: M we need to talk. Text me back as soon as you see this._

Stiles distracted himself with making a cup of tea for a few minutes before looking at his phone again. No reply. Maybe she was asleep or –

With a jolt, Stiles suddenly remembered her promise last night. She said she’d never speak to him again if he left with Lydia. Which he did...

_Fuck_.

Maybe she would sense that it was something serious and reply, he hoped. He would give her an hour. If she didn’t reply within the hour he would call her, and if worse came to worse he would drive to her place.

With his steaming cup of tea and omnipresent nervous energy, Stiles retreated to his room. He had to pack anyway, his dad was expecting him to come home tomorrow and right now he wanted to see his dad more than anything. 

After half an hour of repeatedly changing his mind on what clothes to bring and blasting Radiohead to sooth his frazzled nerves, Stiles finally checked his phone.

_M [pink heart emoji]: I thought I made it quite clear I wasn’t talking to you. Why should I listen to what you have to say?_

Well…at least it was something. Stiles could work with that. He typed a reply whilst nodding his head to the beat of _15 Step_ , the music calmed him enough to press send without hesitation.

_You: It’s serious. Meet me at the Moo Station in one hour._

He knew it was a little commanding but his gut told him that if he was even slightly ambiguous about its importance, she wouldn’t come. Malia sent back a simple ‘ _Okay_ ’ a few minutes later and Stiles ran through what he was going to say while shoving various clothes into his suitcase.

He would open with an apology, Stiles decided, a sincere one. Just because he was feeling more relaxed than he was this morning didn’t mean the guilt wasn’t still circling through his system. He would apologise and then he would tell her, short and sweet. No point beating around the bush. _I hooked up with Lydia last night_ , he would say…God, he had been wanting to say that for years; of course it happened under fucking terrible circumstances.

Stiles busied himself with menial tasks and before long it was time to leave. He decided to stop by Lydia’s room and when she called for him to come in, he opened the door to the sight of her packing.

“I’m going to meet Malia now,” he told her. She paused mid-motion.

“Uh,” Lydia stuttered, unsure how to reply. “Good luck?”

Stiles let himself huff a laugh, happy to have a little light-heartedness before he greeted the executioner. The slightest smile lifted the corners of her lips but it was enough to send him on his way in a better mood than before.

Malia wasn’t at the Moo Station when he arrived so he found a table for two and waited. As soon as he sat down and poured himself a glass of icy water, the reality of the situation hit him. Stiles was going to have to tell his girlfriend that he cheated her. _God_ , he was such a scumbag.

After five minutes or so, Malia appeared opposite him and slid into her chair. Her mouth was set in a grim line. A waitress conveniently appeared and asked for their order, they both asked for a latte.

Once they were alone, Malia opened her mouth to speak. “I’m pretty fucking pissed at you, Stiles.”

He closed his eyes, knowing this was coming but still unprepared. “That’s,” he began, pausing to think of the right wording. “That’s fair enough.”

“Oh, _thank you!_ ” Malia bit out sarcastically. “Thank you so much for giving me permission to feel upset.”

Stiles cringed, feeling like a fucking idiot for thinking he could talk his way out of this. “You’re right,” he pandered, “I’m sorry. I’ll shut up, you just say what’s on your mind.”

Malia sighed, letting the indignation bleed out of her expression. “I feel –” she started, only stopping because the waitress laid their coffees down in front of them.

After she left, Stiles scooped up a spoonful of foam, letting the bitter taste burn his mouth. He deserved to feel shitty right now.

Malia sat silent for a moment, eyes suddenly sparking. “I feel like second place.”

Guilt flared in Stiles’ chest, more powerful than he’d expected. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt her but he couldn’t avoid telling her. “I’m sorry,” he offered, hating how flat it sounded.

“Yeah right,” Malia mumbled, blinking until the tears disappeared. “I think…”

“What?”

“I think we should break up.”

Stiles dropped his spoon, flinching when it clattered loudly against the ceramic plate. _Break up?_ He never expected her to try and end things without even knowing what he and Lydia had done.

“Why?” he asked sharply. He was so unprepared.

Malia scoffed. “You’re still in love with Lydia.”

Stiles sputtered, choking on saliva for a good thirty seconds until the urge to cough was gone. “What?!” he asked incredulously, as though he hadn’t had his hands tangled in Lydia’s red hair six hours ago. “What makes you say that?”

“ _Please,_ ” Malia said, rolling her eyes. “It’s so obvious. If you loved me half as much as you loved her, you would’ve stayed with me last night.”

Stiles stayed silent, considering her point. It made enough sense to scare him.  

“I never wanted to say anything,” Malia continued. “To be honest, I think I was in denial. I thought you would get over her as soon as you got with me…”

“But?”

“But that obviously hasn’t happened.” she finished cuttingly.

Stiles winced. _In love with Lydia?_ That was a thought for another day. “I’m sorry, Malia,” he said.

She just shrugged. “I deserve better, Stiles.”

He considered her, focusing on her dark eyes before smiling. “Yeah,” he stated. “Yeah, you do.”

Malia let the edges of her mouth turn upwards slightly but her eyes were still sad. “So that’s it, then?” she asked.

Stiles inwardly panicked. He’d forgotten about the reason they were even here, he still hadn’t told her about Lydia. Bile threatened to rise up in his throat.

“Not quite,” he started hesitantly, _it was now or never_. “Last night, after the party, Lydia and I – uh – Lydia and I hooked up.”

Malia sat frozen, mouth wide with shock before standing suddenly, knocking over her coffee in the process. “I can’t,” she began, voice shaking with anger. “I can’t fucking believe this.”

“Malia –”

“Don’t!” she cried, gaining the attention of other customers as she gathered her things. “Tell Lydia she needs to watch out, you _asshole_!”

She was gone in a flash, leaving Stiles with his head in his hands. When he looked up, nearly everyone in the café was staring at him as the remnants of Malia’s drink dripped onto the floor.

“What?!” he asked loudly, gesturing to the patrons with frustration. Most of them hastily turned around, attempting to look like they weren’t soaking up the drama. Stiles got up and walked to the counter, asking to pay for both coffees.

“She’ll come around,” the cashier told him with a knowing smile.

Stiles barked a humourless laugh and took his change. When he reached his car, his hands were shaking enough to have trouble opening the door.

He peeled out of the parking spot and drove in the opposite direction to home. He couldn’t be there right now, not after what Malia had said. _In love with Lydia?_ What a cruel turn of events that would be.

Stiles just needed time to think, he needed a long drive to sort out the mess of feelings that were warring inside of him.

 

* * *

 

Lydia zipped up her duffel bag with a sense of triumph. Whatever conflict was going on in her life, it didn’t matter, she would always be a damn good packer.

She decided to take a break and get a cup of tea, absentmindedly wondering how Stiles’ dreaded conversation was going. She hoped Malia wasn’t too harsh on him, even though she had every right to be. _God_ , it was a tough situation, Lydia was glad she had no one else to worry about –

She stilled suddenly, eyes uncharacteristically wide. _Carter!_

She’d completely forgotten to reply to his earlier text, his existence vanishing from her mind the second she laid her eyes on Stiles this morning.

_Shit._

Lydia ran back to her room and snatched up her phone, pressing dial with shaky hands. She ran a hand through her drying tresses as she waited for him to pick up.

“Lydia,” he greeted, answering on the fourth ring. “What’s up? Did you get home okay last night?”

“Yeah, I got home alright,” she replied flatly. She wasn’t looking forward to this. “I need to tell you something, though.”

She could hear Carter pause. “Well, go on,” he said, voice justifiably wary.

“Last night,” Lydia began slowly; it felt like she physically had to force the words out. “Last night…Stiles and I hooked up.”

She winced at his sharp intake of breath, knowing that he was just an innocent bystander in her personal drama and this was undeniably going to hurt him. Despite this, it was hard for her to have that much empathy when this was a sentence she’d dreamed of saying for months now. Lydia only wished it was under better circumstances.

“I should’ve fucking known,” he told her, seemingly talking more to himself than her. “Well, it was fun while it lasted, Lydia.”

She sighed. As consuming as her feelings for Stiles were, she couldn’t begrudge Carter for anything. He’d always been good to her.

“It was,” Lydia admitted sadly. “I’m sorry, Carter.”

“Yeah, see ya round, I guess,” he said before hanging up, leaving Lydia in the uncomfortable silence of her bedroom.

She was surprised at the tears that threatened to spill over. Lydia didn’t cry for many. Maybe these feelings for Stiles had softened the Ice Queen’s heart.

Lydia returned to the kitchen to collect her cup of tea as her thoughts ran in circles, only to be interrupted by a sharp knock on the apartment door. Her pulse suddenly spiked, guessing that Stiles had forgotten his keys. She wasn’t sure she was ready to hear the result of his meetup.

Lydia placed her mug down carefully and plastered a smile on her face as she approached the door. Whatever Stiles told her, she could handle it, she could pretend it didn’t matter.

“Did you leave your keys, again?” Lydia asked affectionately as she pulled the door open. “I’m going to have to – Malia!”

She halted mid-motion, blood running cold as she saw who it was on the other side of the door.

Malia stood there, mouth firm and eyes piercing. Lydia would have to be stupid if she thought Stiles hadn’t told her what happened last night. She guessed the reveal went badly and had to push down the budding hope that was clawing up her throat. Now was not the time to be happy about the betrayal of another girl.

“Do you want to come in?” Lydia asked innocuously, not wanting her to feel like she was unwanted here.

“No,” Malia answered quickly, shifting slightly on her impossibly long legs.

Lydia nodded slowly, holding back the urge to babble out an apology. The girl in front of her wouldn’t appreciate for a second.

“I don’t really know why I came here,” Malia began, the tension seemed to drain from her shoulders. She looked tired. “I guess I just wanted to see your face, or ask you why.”

Lydia crumbled as overwhelming guilt and confusion hit her from all sides. She’d been able to trick herself into thinking Malia wouldn’t be destroyed earlier this morning, but now, seeing her wounded expression was too much. Lydia felt so horrible, willingly hurting this girl because she was too selfish with her feelings. That combined with the insecurities concerning Stiles and last night pushed her to a breaking point.

“I’m so sorry, Malia,” Lydia cried, voice thick.

“I don’t believe you,” Malia replied accusingly, mouth twisting as though she was trying to hold back tears herself. “Why, Lydia? _How?_ ”

“I don’t know,” Lydia answered lamely as the tears slowed, wiping her nose with the back of her hand sloppily. “It just happened, I don’t have any excuses.”

Malia angled her head upwards as her body was wracked with an almighty sigh. “I shouldn’t have come here,” she told herself before looking back at Lydia. “I knew it wouldn’t make me feel any better.”

“I’m sorry,” Lydia repeated, wincing as she did so. “I don’t know what else to say.”

Malia sighed again, tilting her head sadly. “It’s a shame, Lydia. Before you fucked Stiles up, I was really beginning to like you.”

Hot tears spilled over the edge of Lydia’s eyes again. “Is there any chance we can be friends?” she asked hopefully, ready for rejection. “I don’t have many friends.”

“I wonder why,” Malia said, sarcasm lacing her voice before she seemed to soften. “Maybe one day.”

Lydia smiled weakly with sparkling eyes, regret etched into her features. “I’m sorry, again. For what it’s worth.”

“It’s not worth much,” Malia told her honestly, scuffing her boot along the floor. “I just hope whatever happens with Stiles is worth how terrible you’re both feeling right now.”

“What?”

“Don’t play dumb, Lydia,” Malia cautioned, eyes narrowing judgementally. “You know about his feelings.”

“No,” Lydia replied honestly as her heartbeat thundered. “No, I really don’t.”

Malia rolled her eyes and twisted her neck to face the wall on her right. Her face broke out into a wry smile. “How am I the one playing matchmaker with you two, right now?” she asked herself before turning back around. “He’s still in love with you.”

Lydia stood still, suddenly very aware of the blood rushing behind her ears. “What?” she repeated, unable to form comprehensive sentences in her shocked state.

“At the party,” Malia began, “he came up to me and said that we needed to take you home. I said I didn’t want to leave yet but he insisted. I told him if he took you home, I would never speak to him again. _He took you home_.”

Lydia’s mouth hung open as she processed Malia’s words. _He chose me?_ she thought, _he chose me over his girlfriend._

“I’ll leave you to work that one out,” Malia said, sounding impossibly drained. She turned around to leave.

“Wait!” Lydia called, catching the girl’s attention as she was halfway down the stairs. “I really am sorry. I just needed to say it again.”

“Yeah,” Malia replied, letting her mouth turn down at the edges. “I’m sorry, too.”

Lydia watched as she disappeared out of sight. Thoughts circled deafeningly through her mind but one stood out amongst the rest.

_Stiles is in love with me._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> first of all, i am so sorry for the massive break between updates, ive had the craziest month of my life i swear to god. secondly, while im at uni its hard for me to find time to write, i dont think i'll have another break as long as this one but chapter updates aren't going to be particularly frequent. thirdly, i got super distracted with another pairing so i had to write a fic for them before i could continue with this one, its called 'I Dine With the Blood On My Hands' if you guys want to read it. lastly, thank you all so much for being patient, i love you all!!!! reviews are life <3 <3 <3


	19. The Question

Lydia moved around the apartment in a trance-like state for the rest of the night, over-analysing every possible aspect of Malia’s words. Stiles still hadn’t returned from whatever he was doing and she couldn’t decide if she was worried or thankful. She was leaning closer to worried, though, if he turned up dead after all of these revelations, there was going to be hell to pay.

She felt agitated and fidgety, all she could do was straighten up piles of papers and rearrange all the little displays around the apartment. Lydia supposed her body was trying to order everything externally to compensate for her cluttered mind.

She was beyond confused. Even if what Malia said was true, if Stiles really was in love with her, what was she supposed to do about it?

Lydia was mature enough to admit to herself that her past with Jackson had damaged her. It undoubtedly played into her Ice Queen persona, and likely had something to do with her inability commit to a relationship. Jackson was the first and only boyfriend she had and when that ended, when he left her, she was unsure whether she could love or be loved again.

Enter Stiles; the kindest, dumbest, _purest_ boy she’d ever met.

What if it all went wrong? Jackson was an asshole, even while they were together, and _he’d_ managed to change her for the worse. What would happen if it ended badly with Stiles?

Lydia wasn’t sure she could recover.

She sighed for the umpteenth time today, pausing her absentminded fidgeting. It was times like these that she hated her intelligence, her need to consider every little aspect of a decision. Lydia wished she could be spontaneous, like Stiles, she wanted to be able to just jump right in to something. Consequences be damned.

It wasn’t in her nature, though, it went against everything that had shaped her into the person she was today. Every _be careful, Lydia, you’ll make a mistake if you do it too fast_ from her mother, every _good job, Lydia, perfect approach to a question like this_ from her teachers, every _slow down, Lydia, you’re giving me a headache_ from Jackson; it all added up.

Her brain rejected any notion of impulsiveness in some misguided attempt at self-defence.

Lydia shook herself out of her depressing reverie, putting down the shirt she had been folding. It wouldn’t serve any purpose to evaluate the faults in her character, especially since Stiles could come home at any minute.

She looked out the balcony window at the setting sun; sheets of rain had been falling for a while now, personifying her gloomy mood. The sound comforted her, though. It always had and she felt the anxiety start to ebb. A cup of tea was bound to help, as well. Lydia waited for the kettle to boil as she watched the last of the sunlight fade from the sky.

She hoped Stiles would be home soon, worry was beginning to bloom in her chest.

As if on cue, Lydia heard jangling keys and the unmistakable sound of the front door being unlocked. Her pulse spiked as a wave of heat wracked her body, she felt laughably unprepared for whatever was to come.

Stiles walked into the apartment, head hanging dejectedly before he noticed her standing in the kitchen. They looked at each other wordlessly for a moment.

“Where were you?” Lydia asked after a beat, her voice quiet and undemanding.

Stiles’ shoulders seemed to drop, tension visibly departing. He had probably expected her to yell at him. “I just went for a long drive,” he explained.

Lydia nodded understandingly. She wasn’t going to tell him about Malia’s visit just yet, knowing all it would do was cause him more stress. He looked so drained that she couldn’t bear to add another worry line to his overcrowded forehead.

“How did it go with Malia?” Lydia asked, already knowing the answer.

Stiles walked closer to her, almost unthinkingly. “Well, she broke up with me,” he told her, laughing humourlessly.

Lydia cringed. As conflicted as she was about this whole fucked up situation, she could see he was hurting. “I’m so sorry, Stiles,” she offered. “Are you okay?”

“Not really,” he replied, mouth down-turned grimly. Before she knew what she was doing, Lydia had crossed the laminated kitchen floor and wrapped her arms around Stiles’ middle, enveloping him in a hug.

She typically avoided prolonged contact with him, due to the inevitable response it brought on. She could feel it now; her heartbeat picking up, anticipation settling low in her stomach, but she pushed it aside. Right now, he needed a comforting touch.

Slowly but surely, he returned the gesture, enfolding his arms around her tiny waist and lowering his head to nudge it against her soft hair. They stayed like that for a while, breathing steadily in the dark kitchen. From her position against his chest, Lydia could smell Stiles’ flannel shirt. It was intoxicating; the scent of faint cologne, home, and something so _boyish_ combined rushed to her head.

She felt her grip tighten around him, fingers spasming.

Reluctantly, they separated from each other and she could see his bright eyes in the dim light.

“Okay,” Lydia started, returning to her luke-warm tea. “I think we both know what time it is.”

“What?” Stiles asked warily. He leaned against the kitchen bench just enough to expose a slither of skin at his hip. Lydia’s throat ran dry.

 _Focus!_ She reprimanded herself, now was not the time to get worked up. “Do I even have to say it?” she asked him, secretly enjoying the way he paled. “Star Wars marathon!”

“ _Oh_ ,” Stiles grinned, relief flitting over his face before he seemed to remember himself. “I don’t know, Lydia, maybe it’s not really the ti –”

“Nonsense,” she interrupted, cutting him off with a smile. “It’s the perfect time. You need a distraction and I want to watch Star Wars.” 

He considered it for a painfully long moment before nodding. “Okay, let’s do it.”

“Great!” Lydia replied excitedly, bouncing on her the balls of her feet. “I’ll put it on.”

Stiles nodded again and returned to his room, presumably to change into sweats. Lydia happily turned the television on and placed the first disk in. She was beyond relieved that he’d agreed, imaging how soul-crushing it would’ve been if he’d said no.

When Stiles returned, _A New Hope_ had started playing and he plopped himself down on the couch next to Lydia. His knee rubbed against her thigh and despite the layers of cotton in between them, it scorched her skin.

As they sat in the living room, the light from the TV illuminating their faces eerily, Lydia was reminded of all the other times she was in this position, fighting the urge to keep her hands to herself. Now was no different, in fact, it was more consuming than ever. She clasped her fingers together in her lap and willed herself to focus on the movie.

It was funny to think that twenty-four hours ago, she, Stiles, and Malia were pre-drinking in the same room. _God_ , Lydia couldn’t have possibly known the events that were going to unfold that night. Even thinking about it now sparked a low heat in her belly. Her knuckles her white with the effort to keep her grip tight.

Stiles noticed her stare and turned to face her, eyes burning with an emotion she couldn’t read. Lydia was unable look away.

“What?” he asked, so quietly that she almost didn’t hear his scratchy voice above the noise of the television.

She found the remote and turned the volume down absentmindedly. “Malia came here,” Lydia answered after a beat.

“What?!” Stiles repeated himself, louder this time. His eyes were obscenely wide. “What did she say?”

They’d managed to inch closer to each other, she noticed as an answer formed. Her thigh sat over his leg and the contact didn’t help clear her head. “She, uh,” Lydia paused, swallowing loudly. “She said she wanted to ask me why.”

Stiles’ eyes fluttered closed, pain evident on his face and Lydia felt the need to rip her own heart out.

“What did you say?” he asked, voice barely a whisper.

“I said I didn’t know why,” she told him, mouth twisted in a grimace. “That it just happened.”

“And then what?”

“She just told me something else,” Lydia said, referring to Malia’s speculation about Stiles’ feeling towards her. She wasn’t sure if she was ready to tell him yet. “It’s not important.”

“Lydia,” Stiles urged, tilting his head. “You can’t say that and expect me not to ask.”

She sighed and looked up at the ceiling, willing herself to be brave. This was it, the question Lydia had been dying to know the answer to for too long. It was nerve-wracking, knowing this enigmatic boy in front of her could crush her heart in an instant. She was never one to fall prey to false hope but it was undoubtedly pumping through her system now.

Her body tried, with all its might, to stop her. Her heart seemed to stutter in her chest, attempting to keep up with the pure terror she felt. Her teeth were gritted, acting as gate-keeper against foolish promulgations. Lydia hadn’t encountered more fear than the average person in her life but she could imagine that getting robbed at gun point, or speeding into a head-on collision was on par with the absolute horror of putting her heart on the line.

With a deep breath she brought her head back down, facing the person that owned her every waking thought.

“She told me about your fight, your _ultimatum_ ,” Lydia stated, voice shaking as much as her hands. “She told me you were in love with me.”

He just looked at her, mouth hanging slightly open as though he needed more oxygen to process this.

“Are you, Stiles?” Lydia asked after a beat. She’d come too far to bail, now. “Are you in love with me?”  

“No,” Stiles said, frowning.

“No?” Lydia repeated dumbly, the coldest sensation slicing through her as she started to stand. She needed to leave.

His eyes widened. “No, no, no,” Stiles back-tracked, placing his large hands over hers to urge her back to the couch. “I don’t mean _no_.”

“What?”

“I’m sorry,” Stiles said hastily, words fighting to leave his mouth. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I don’t mean no.”

“Then what do you mean?!” Lydia asked harshly, on the verge of tears.

“ _Fuck,_ ” Stiles swore, “I _mean_ I’m not going to answer that question. Not until you tell me about your feelings first.”

Lydia sat still for a moment before taking her hand out from underneath his to thwack him on the shoulder.

“Ow,” Stiles complained, even though it didn’t hurt.

She did it again. “That was so fucking _stupid!_ ” Lydia cried indignantly. “Have you ever heard of thinking before you speak?!”

Stiles couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled out of chest. “I’m sorry,” he grinned, trying to avoid her sudden onslaught of violence.

“It’s not funny!” Lydia admonished, chin up as though she still had some pride.

This only made Stiles laugh harder, hearty chuckles tumbling out of his mouth. Lydia couldn’t resist the corners of her lips lifting upwards as she watched. A warm feeling was spreading through her chest. _He didn’t mean no_.

Stiles’ giddiness slowly died down and they were left smiling at each other. He placed his hands back over hers.

“Why do you want me to go first?” Lydia asked, quietly. They were sitting so close now that they were almost embracing.

Stiles shrugged. “I just think you, Lydia Martin,” he began, stroking his thumb against the back of her hand. “Should be the first one to be honest. I _know_ you. I know you don’t do that very often.”

Lydia looked away suddenly, tears pricking her eyes. How this boy still managed to surprise her, she’d never know. Never had she met someone so eager, so willing to know her. To accept her faults and worship her strengths, to be so comfortable with the ins and outs of her personality. This was who she’d been waiting for since Jackson, since _before_ Jackson.

This was it. She turned back to Stiles.

With only a second of hesitation, a sudden protective instinct kicking in before she pushed it away, Lydia opened her mouth to speak. “Yes,” she said, lifting her palm to his rosy cheek with a thundering heartbeat. “Yes, I do have feelings for you. I – I love you.”

Stiles just stared at her, eyes burning hotter than Lydia had ever seen. The intensity jolted something deep in her abdomen. With a bated breath and noise of surrender, he leaned in and touched his lips to hers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y'all know what's coming. reviews are life <3
> 
> EDIT: just letting everyone know im still continuing this fic im just waiting until i finish uni for the year, my last exam is the 10th of november so expect a chapter shortly after that :))))) thanks for being so patient <3 <3 <3


	20. The Climax

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys, so first of all i want to say that i'm so sorry for not updating this in so long, trust me i felt bad while doing it but i had no motivation to write this chapter and i felt that if i forced myself to do it i wouldn't be happy with the outcome. secondly, i want to thank everyone for being so patient, i received a bunch of messages over this break and not one of them was demanding or rude and honestly it inspired me to update faster, also as a reward this chapter is longer than normal but you guys deserve it. thirdly, only a couple of chapters left of this story, hopefully i can get them out faster than this one *side eyes myself*. anyway here's the climax of this story, i hope it was worth the wait, i love you guys so much <3 <3 
> 
> warning: mature content
> 
> p.s. you might want to read over the last couple of chapters to get in the mood ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

There were few instances in Lydia’s life where she felt like her heart could beat right out of her chest with excitement and simultaneously a blanket sense of calmness that came with knowing that she has gotten what she wanted. Getting her college acceptance letter from UCLA was an example, Stiles Stilinski gently kissing her, as though his life had amounted to this one moment, was another.

Lydia kept her eyes closed and let herself feel the rough skin of Stiles’ lips skimming across hers, the softness of his hand palming her neck, long fingers slowly tangling in her hair. Where their first kiss had been hurried and burning, this one was sweet and full of contentment, though no less desperate.

Stiles hummed softly, edging closer and lips growing more urgent against Lydia’s. He felt warm inside. _She loves me_ , he told himself with glee, _she loves me, she loves me, she loves me_.

Lydia pulled backed abruptly, breathing harshly and running a shaky hand through her red tresses. “Wait,” she said, putting her other hand on Stiles’ chest to steady herself. For moment he feared she was having second thoughts. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked, out of breath himself. Stiles let his fingertips skim across her shoulder, catching on the material of her adorably large t-shirt.

Lydia looked up at him and he found himself helplessly caught in the intensity of her gaze.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“Question?...I–”

“I asked you if you were in love with me and you didn’t answer.” Lydia told him, voice laced with an unusually playful tone. “You can’t fool me for long, Stilinski.”

Stiles barked out a laugh, caught by surprise. “You’re kidding, right?” he asked jokingly, weaving his fingers through the strands of hair near her eyes. He couldn’t wipe the smile from his face if he tried.

“Do I look like I’m kidding?” Lydia questioned, arching her eyebrow in a way that sent heat straight to his groin.

“Lydia Martin,” Stiles began, voice steady and sure. “I don’t know if you can call yourself a genius if you think a day has gone by where I haven’t been completely, utterly, _stupidly_ in love with you.”

Lydia exhaled hurriedly and put a hand to her stomach in an attempt to quell the butterflies. She had never felt like this in her entire life, like happiness could just burst from every pore. Stiles was looking at her expectantly, the faintest, knowing smile on his face.

“You’re such a sap,” she told him affectionately, unable to articulate the utter joy she was feeling.

Stiles shrugged and opened his mouth to reply, only to be cut off by Lydia leaning over and catching his lips. Whatever snarky retort had he planned was swallowed and replaced by a contented hum as Lydia brought a hand up to tangle her fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck.

Last night, when they were pressed together, burning with need, Stiles had thought it was the best he’d ever feel, the height of pleasure. It wasn’t even close. Not compared to Lydia Martin kissing him softly after confessing her love.

Stiles thought of his teenage self, of his idealistic, boyish crush on Lydia, and rejected the picture created in his mind. Back then, as pure as his intentions were, he didn’t know her. He watched from a distance and noticed things, sure, but it wasn’t… _real_.

This was real. This feeling inside of him, this quiet love flowing through his veins was real. It made him feel like an adult for the first time he could remember. It made him feel the same way his mother’s reassuring smile used to. It made Stiles feel _better_.

Lydia seemed to sense his stillness and pulled back cautiously, green eyes searching. Stiles, not wanting anything to interrupt this moment, let his gaze fall to her bee-stung lips and claimed them again in a searing kiss. Lydia hummed invitingly, the noise catching slightly in her throat, at the feeling of his scorching lips mouthing a burning path into her skin. She could feel flames spark in the base of her spine, slowly spreading upwards and outwards.

Stiles fingered the hem of her cotton t-shirt and proceeded to lift it off her body. Lydia had never been so proud of her past self; choosing to forgo a bra earlier in the day. Her nipples were tight as they scratched against the rough material of Stiles’ flannel and he couldn’t resist lowering one of his hands to pinch and _twist_ at a rosy nub.

Lydia answered with another, slightly more urgent hum and urged the blue flannel off of Stiles’ broad shoulders, all the while kissing a trail along the underside of his jaw. He broke away with great difficulty and raised the white cotton undershirt he was wearing over his head. Suddenly they were still.

Stiles took a moment to really look at Lydia as he had never seen her; sitting in front of him topless, bare breasts moving with her heaving chest. He couldn’t imagine a more artful male fantasy. He also took in her face, eyes drifting over her swollen lips and rosy cheeks and downright _sinful_ gaze. She looked like she wanted to eat him alive.

Lydia made no attempt to slow her breathing as she raked her eyes over Stiles’ naked torso. She’d caught a glimpse of it months ago, felt it against her back last night, but nothing compared to seeing his body right in front of her, still for her appraisal. She wasn’t sure how he looked lean, knowing first-hand how little exercise he did, but sure enough the muscles strapped to his bones were sinewy and tight. Lydia could even make out the variously sized moles that were scattered across his chest and the dark trail of hair that directed her gaze to the waistband of his jeans.

She ran her knuckles along it, letting them catch against the muscles in his abdomen and if Stiles wasn’t hard before, he was now. Achingly so.

His hand drifted to the wrist of her outstretched arm, squeezing once before skimming it upwards and letting it rest at the nape of Lydia’s neck, tangling in the thick red hair there. He placed one lingering, _longing_ kiss to her lips before turning her slightly and urging to her sit against the back of the couch. She was pliable. More so than she’d like to admit but she couldn’t fault herself for it; anticipating what he was about to do.

Stiles knelt on the carpet in front of her and placed his hands on her tracksuit covered thighs. He kissed Lydia like this, on his knees, reminding her how dwarfed she usually was by him. All thoughts of height difference flew out of her head, however, when he slowly spread her legs wide and settled in between them, peppering kisses across her clavicle.

Lydia was taken aback by the sheer force of the _swoop_ in her stomach and dropped her hands down to the waistband of her sweats to compensate for the sudden twitch.

Stiles helped her remove her pants until she was dressed in nothing but black underwear. Lydia was wished she’d worn something a little more exciting, perhaps with lace or a little bow. One look at Stiles’ face, however, eyes raking up and down her figure without a hint of dissatisfaction, quickly dispelled her of that notion.

“You are so fucking beautiful,” he told her, sincerity and awe lacing his tone as he leaned down to pull a pebbled nipple into his mouth.

“Are you trying to win me over with flattery, Stilinski?” Lydia questioned semi-playfully as she threaded a hand through his thick hair, suddenly self-conscious.

She could feel Stiles smirk against the soft skin of her right breast. “Who says I haven’t already won you over?” he asked before resuming his ministrations.

Lydia swallowed a laugh. _Oh how right he was_ , he had won her over long before this moment was even a distant fantasy. She was sure he knew that, however, and didn’t think his ego needed anymore stroking.

“Well, if you haven’t flattery is certainly not the way to do – _oh_ ,” Lydia couldn’t hold back a moan as Stiles suddenly rubbed the hard ridge of his palm along her cotton covered centre. “But _that_ might be _._ ”

He huffed a self-satisfied laugh and pulled her underwear down and over her hips, moving back to look at her. _Finally_ , she was bare in front of him.

Stiles took in the sight of Lydia’s naked body with something she could only describe as reverence. The uncharacteristic self-consciousness she was feeling a moment earlier dissipated without a fight and suddenly she was beckoning for him, pulling him in for another searing kiss.

With a noise of desperation and urgency, Stiles returned her kiss fervently and lowered his hand to stroke and probe at her entrance, thumb circling her clit. Lydia was overwhelmed by the sheer pleasure emanating from her core and let her head fall against the back of the couch, beginning a slow circling of her hips.

Stiles closed his eyes and listened to the litany of sounds Lydia was making, hopelessly turned on knowing that _he_ was the one coaxing them from her. He continued to mouth a burning path between the valley of her breasts and down her navel as he listened to the catches of her breath and barely-there moans.

When his mouth finally reached her lower body, Stiles maddeningly began to pepper kisses along the inside of her thighs, leaving Lydia shivering with anticipation.

“Stiles,” she urged softly, voice hardly more than a whisper, “ _Please_.”

Lifting his head from between her legs momentarily, Stiles took one look at the raw need in Lydia’s face and inhaled sharply. “Well,” he said, trying and failing to mask the pure lust pumping through his system. “Since you asked so nicely…”

Lydia’s breath hitched on a laugh before hitching on something else entirely as Stiles _finally_ swiped his tongue along the length of her slit. Unadulterated pleasure coiled sharply in her stomach and she couldn’t help scratching at his scalp with sharp nails.

 _This_ was what Lydia needed.

Stiles continued his assault on her cunt, circling the small bundle of nerves with his tongue and crooking his fingers inside of her _just so_ until Lydia was twitching with the building pressure. The molten lava snaking through her stomach urged her to lower her hands to her breasts, to pull and twist the rosy nubs, eyes fluttering closed.

Stiles’ firm, wet tongue parted from her clit for a moment too long and Lydia opened her eyes to see him staring at her with raw want. She filed away the sight of his head, glistening lips and all, between her legs as she continued to play with her chest.

“ _Jesus_ , Lydia,” Stiles groaned, voice shaking in a way that made her eyes momentarily close again and breathe unsteadily. “You look…”

“ _You did this_ ,” Lydia told him, voice low and sultry. She _needed_ him to know that this moment, this part of her, was for him and him alone. This was just a small fraction of what she could give him, what she _wanted_ to give him.

Stiles groaned again. “ _God_ , fucking give me strength,” he muttered, as though he couldn’t quite believing this was happening.

“Please, Stiles.”

With a renewed fervour, Stiles lowered his mouth to her clit and _sucked_ , making Lydia cry out as his sinfully long fingers pumped in and out of her opening with a punishing speed, he could feel a musky liquid envelop his digits. Lydia’s hips jumped and jerked as he unforgivingly worked her cunt, she could feel the pleasure build and build and build as she twisted and _pulled_ at her nipples, she could feel the beginning of Stiles’ five o’clock shadow scratching the inside of her thighs in the most delightful way, she could feel his tongue press on her nub, flat and hard until she was moaning and moaning and moaning, she could feel, she could _feel_ –

Pleasure crested and crested until Lydia tipped over the edge, pelvis stuttering as she saw stars, moans low and uncontrollable. Stiles kept his mouth on her as she rode out the aftershocks of her orgasm, wet fingers resting on her thigh.

As her mind slowly returned from the high heavens, Lydia looked down to see Stiles’ jeans unbuttoned and his hand steadily palming his dick.

“ _Fuck_ ,” she said, unable to articulate the intensity of the jolt in her stomach, re-lighting the fire.

Stiles breathed a laugh, mouth shiny with her come. “You’re telling me.”

She pulled him up to her height with weak arms and caught his lips in a slow, scorching kiss. Lydia could taste herself on his tongue.

Stiles stood to his full height and she found that she liked looking up at him through her lashes, body slick with sweat. Lydia’s fingertips found the waistband of his jeans and yanked downward, smiling as his cock sprang free. It was curved slightly, and so hard that it touched his stomach.

Stiles sighed as Lydia’s hand circled the bottom of his length, thumb and index finger forming a tight ring. She ran her fingers along it once, twice, before inching her head forward and licking along a particularly prominent vein.

 _I’m in heaven_ , Stiles thought, eyes rolling back into his head, _there’s no way this can be real_.

Lydia sank to her knees on the carpeted floor and ran the flat of her tongue alongside the underside of his cock a few times before taking the head into her mouth. She could feel a dribble of pre-come hit her tongue and the salty taste encouraged her to take in more of him.

Stiles groaned as the hollows of Lydia’s cheeks enveloped his dick in a tight seal. She brought both hands to cover the rest of his length and _sucked_.

“ _Fuck, Lydia_ ,” Stiles stuttered out, as though the words couldn’t leave him fast enough. Lydia hummed around him in response and he swore could come right then and there. “You look so fucking good on your knees.”

Lydia resisted the urge to smirk with an almighty will-power, not wanting her teeth to make an appearance. She remembered, all those months ago when she touched herself to the sounds of Stiles and Malia having sex, that he talked as much in bed as he did in real life. It was so _Stiles_ that Lydia’s heart swelled and she began to bob her head, rhythmically coaxing pleasure from his veins.

She also thought, with both of her hands _and_ mouth covering his entire length, that Stiles was _big_ , and for the first time tonight she realised that they were going to have sex, that he was going to be _inside her_. The thought left her shivering, moisture pooling in her centre and slowly dripping down her bare thighs.

Stiles tangled his long fingers in Lydia’s red tresses and moved her head slightly, not as if he was trying to control her pace or guide her, but as though he wants to feel closer to her, to the pleasure that she was giving him.

“Oh, _God_ , Lydia,” Stiles’ moaned as she increased her pace and intensity. “ _Yeah_ , just like that.”

Lydia carried on, enjoying his symphony of noises and shallow thrusts. Stiles felt like he was on fire, like every nerve was alight as she worked his cock.

He felt himself approaching the edge all too soon, however, and had to softly urge Lydia’s mouth off of his length. Stiles mourned the loss of contact immediately.

“You’re amazing at that,” he told Lydia after he helped her stand, leaving her smiling. He kissed her desperately, thumb tipping her chin upwards and hand skimming up and down her side. She looked ethereal like this, gloriously naked in the dim light, red hair hanging down her back, and lips swollen just for him.

Lydia could feel his dick sliding sloppily against her stomach and the molten lava sliced through her stomach yet again. “Do you have a condom?” she asked, pressing her hips against his.

Stiles closed his eyes momentarily and Lydia guessed that he was having some sort of moment, thinking of his past self. The thought made her roll her eyes affectionately.

“Stiles?”

“What? Oh, yeah, _condom_ ,” Stiles babbled as his eyes snapped open, perfectly in character. “I think I have one in my wallet.”

Lydia nodded and sat down on the couch, absentmindedly running her hands over her stomach and around her thighs while Stiles searched his jean pockets.

“Got it!” he called out triumphantly, holding the leather item in the air for a moment before rummaging through it until he found the essential silver packet.

“Come here,” Lydia pouted, already cold without the delicious heat Stiles emanated.

He willingly obliged, smirking the entire way until Lydia’s hand circled around his cock again, thumb swiping across the tip. Stiles tore the packet open with his teeth and nudged her hands out of her way, rolling the bright pink latex down his length.

With one hand on the nape of her neck and the other one travelling down her chest, Stiles urged Lydia to lie down on the couch before climbing atop her, letting her wrap her legs around his hips and bracketing her head with his elbows.

She pulled his head down and kissed him ardently, heart almost beating out of her chest. _This is it_ , she thought to herself giddily. She felt like a 16 year old girl again, when she had sex with Jackson for the first time, an experience that felt so unbelievably momentous at that period. And it was, truly, but it was nothing compared to this, nothing compared to _Stiles_.

Lydia loved him completely, relentlessly, so much that it hurt sometimes, and he loved her too, he always had. She needed him inside her so much more than she had ever needed anything in her life, she was _burning_ for it.

 _It was time_.

Her hand moved south until it hit Stiles’ cock, impossibly hard against her stomach. With a deep breath and a surge of lust, she guided him into her, inch by inch.

“ _Fucking hell_ ,” Stiles groaned shakily, letting his forehead rest against hers. Lydia closed her eyes, feeling hot and full and _right_.

After a moment of stillness where Stiles was sure he was going to come, he slowly began to move, unable to hold back moans at the feeling of her wet, tight heat surrounding him. Lydia looped her arms around his back and up to his shoulder to scratch at the skin there as he increased his pace.

“Oh, _God_ , Lydia, it feels so fucking good.” Stiles told her, voice muffled by the crook of her neck.

“I know,” she moaned, panting as his rapid thrusts shifted her body back and forth. She felt little. “ _I know._ ”

She was on _fire_.

Stiles continued pushing into her, the power behind his thrusts building and building until Lydia’s teeth rattled and she cried out as she felt herself reaching that elusive peak yet again.

“Stiles,” she breathed, voice weak and high-pitched. “I’m almost – I’m going to –”

“Come on, Lydia,” he said, thrusting into her impossibly faster, biting her on the corded muscles in her neck, and bringing his hand between them to press his thumb squarely against her clit, and –

“ _Oh!_ ” Lydia cried, hips jerking as her vision whited around the edges, pure ecstasy rushing south.

“ _Fuck,”_ Stiles moaned, voice low and primal as he felt her cunt clench around him. “Jesus fucking Christ.”

Lydia laughed as their movements slowed. “You’re telling me,” she joked, echoing his earlier words as she wiped sweat-slick hair from her forehead.

After a few moments of recovery, Lydia pushed her interlocked ankles against Stiles’ ass, urging him to continue. He started slow, lathing his tongue over the angry, red spot on her neck.

Eventually, the pace he set increased until it was just as relentless as before and Stiles felt a familiar coil in his stomach.

“I – I’m close,” he told Lydia, kissing her neck absentmindedly as he chased his climax.

“Stiles,” Lydia said, voice steady. “Stiles, look at me.”

He lifted his head until his eyes her level with hers, inhaling sharply at the sight of her dilated pupils.

“I love you,” Lydia told him, taking one hand away from his shoulder blade and placing it over his cheek.

Stiles groaned, quickening his thrusts. “Say it again.”

“I love you.”

“Again.”

“I love you,” Lydia said, meeting his hips rhythmically as she felt him grow desperate. “I love you, I love you, _I love you._ ”

“ _Fuck, Lydia, I’m –_ ”

Moans tumbled out of his mouth as Stiles came, eyes rolling back into his head and Lydia closed her eyes at the feeling, almost tipping over the edge again as she coaxed him through it.

Both of them breathed heavily as they came down from their respective highs. Stiles pulled out of Lydia and lay beside her.

“Why the fuck didn’t we do that sooner?” he asked her, resting a hand on her stomach.

“Beats me,” Lydia said, shrugging as she skimmed her hand up and down his arm absentmindedly.  

Stiles smiled and lent down to kiss her again, this one slow and sweet. “I love you, too.”

“I know.”

“Just because you’re a genius doesn’t mean – oh, look, Star Wars is still on!”


	21. The Return

When Lydia woke up the next morning the first thing she felt was a warm, solid arm wrapped around her middle. The memories of last night; the confessions, the dim light of the television illuminating the room, the _award-winning_ sex, slowly returned to her, putting an impossibly contented smile on her face.

Stiles seemed to sense her now fully conscious state and began to wake up himself. He shifted against her, pulling Lydia further into his cocoon of heat. They were in Stiles’ bed, having migrated there last night in a post-sex, satiated haze.

“Morning,” Stiles said, voice low and husky in the early hour. The sound shot straight to Lydia’s stomach and she softly ran her nails along his forearm in response.

“Morning,” she echoed, turning over and tangling her legs with the deliciously sleepy boy in her bed. Stiles’ eyes were just starting to open, honey brown irises peering at her. Lydia couldn’t resist pressing a quick kiss to his lips.

“This may sound dumb,” Stiles began, moving onto his back with his arm still under Lydia’s neck. “But is this real?”

Lydia rolled her eyes and swatted him on the chest. _Trust Stiles to ruin a perfectly blissful moment_ , she thought to herself, heart full of affection.

She pulled herself out of bed and searched for a big enough shirt to cover her naked form while Stiles watched her. They both chose to forgo clothes when they went to sleep last night. Lydia finally found his extra-large white t-shirt, one of her favourites on him, and pulled it over her head.

She admired herself in his body length mirror for a moment before strolling in the kitchen, chin up and confident smirk on her face. “Want some breakfast?” Lydia called out once she reached the bench. 

Stiles replied something vaguely positive sounding and although the noise was garbled by his pillow, Lydia assumed he meant yes. She started collecting ingredients and her mind wandered as she occupied her hands.

Lydia wasn’t sure sex had ever been so completely _satisfying_ before, even with Jackson. The thought both excited and scared her; if it was this good the first time, it would only get better and Lydia could hardly fathom anything _better_ than last night. On the contrary, how was she supposed to go back to sex with strangers, people she had no feelings for? That concept was fairly unimaginable, however, Lydia was in this for the long haul.

It felt strange admitting that to herself, being someone that never just dived off the edge, but Lydia trusted Stiles, and she trusted that he wouldn’t hurt her on purpose. The rest would just fall into place along the way.

Lydia finished whisking the eggs and prepared a frying pan as she heard Stiles shuffling around his room. A moment later he was behind her, crowding into her space as she poured the liquid into the pan. Lydia sighed as his hands grabbed onto the fleshy part of her hips, drawing her back into the hard lines of his body. He began kissing a path from her ear to her clavicle, the area already covered with marks from last night’s tryst.

“If you don’t stop distracting me I’m going to accidentally burn this house down,” Lydia told him, only somewhat sternly due to the warm sensation building between her legs.

Stiles let her go with a mournful hum and started helping with breakfast. They finished their scrambled eggs on toast in relative silence, both feeling comfortable and contented enough to forgo talking.

“Are you going to Beacon Hills today?” Stiles asked Lydia as they sat across from one another at the table, devouring their breakfast.

“Mhm,” she replied around a mouthful of food.

“Do you want to drive down together?” Stiles asked, stealing a cube of tomato off of her plate.

“Okay,” Lydia answered, swatting his hand away as he tried for a second piece of food. “Your car or mine?”

“The jeep has more room,” Stiles said innocently. Lydia, however, knew he didn’t like to be parted from the worn down car for long, and that his dad would love to see it.

“Sure,” she acquiesced. “Let’s take the jeep.”

Stiles smiled brightly at her before taking both of their dishes to the sink. Lydia retreated to her room to get everything in order, once again grateful that she had packed yesterday in her nervous state. It was funny to her how much everything had changed in the space of 24 hours.

She dressed in a pair of skinny jeans and heeled boots, wanting to look her best when she returned to her home town, and topped it off with her green pea coat. When Lydia had finished her last minute preparations, she brought her duffle bag out of her room and plonked herself down on the couch, waiting for Stiles to join her.

Only minutes later, he emerged from his room, dressed in jeans and one of his many hoodies. In fact, Lydia was sure she’d worn it before, and would likely wear it over and over and over again.

“Ready to go?” Stiles asked, tugging his battered suitcase behind him.

Lydia nodded dumbly at him, suddenly distracted by how pretty he was. His sharp, pointy features stood out in the slightly chilly apartment, honey eyes bright and piercing.

 _I have his heart_ , Lydia thought to herself giddily, _I also fucked him on this very couch_.

“What’s wrong with you?” Stiles asked after a beat, puzzled by her scrutiny.

“Huh?” she replied, shaken from her thoughts, “Oh, nothing, nothing. You ready to go?”

“Yep,” Stiles replied, shaking his head as he watched Lydia do a couple of last minute jobs. “Weirdo.”

Once they had finally finished gathering their bags and locking up the apartment, they were on the road around mid-morning, comfortably settled in Stiles’ jeep.

“Any preference for music?” Lydia asked, taking her boots off and propping her feet up on her seat.

“You choose,” Stiles replied, thinking she looked awfully cute curled up in the front seat of his car. He couldn’t resist dropping a hand to her thigh after he changed gears, comforted by the heat seeping through her jeans.

Lydia smiled, warmth settling low in her stomach at the little possessive action, and put on one of her favourite playlists. As _Banks_ ’ soft voiced drifted through the tinny car stereo, she let her fingers trail up Stiles’ firm forearm and back down again, eliciting a contented hum from behind the wheel.

Lydia let her head fall back against her seat and closed her eyes, brain filled with memories of last night and nails subconsciously scratching at Stiles’ skin.

“Lydia,” he warned, voice low beside her.

“Hm?” she asked innocently as she opened her eyes and turned towards him slightly, fingertips still dancing across his arm.

He spared her a quick glance before focusing on the road again. They were entering the freeway.

“Do you want me to crash?” he questioned indignantly, despite his own hand roughly groping at the inside of her thigh. “How am I going to explain to your mother that you’re dead because I was too busy getting seduced by you to drive?”

Lydia laughed, the sound high and effortless. “I’m not seducing you Stiles,” she said, her other hand travelling to his leg. “You want to see seduction?”

Stiles swallowed thickly, their little game quickly turning into something real. His cock twitched, unable to think of anything other than her fingers shifting closer and closer to the hardening bulge between his legs.

“Lydia,” he said with a mournful sigh, “I’m genuinely going to crash if you keep doing that.”

Lydia sighed. “Okay,” she said resignedly, giving his thigh one last squeeze. “We can pick it up later.”

Stiles muttered something unintelligible under his breath before detaching his hand from her leg and returning it to the wheel.

Thankfully, the rest of the journey passed without a hitch.

They stopped at a McDonald’s for lunch, contentedly people-watching as they ate their fries. At around three in the afternoon they passed the comfortingly familiar _Welcome to Beacon Hills_ sign, and they both started getting excited at the prospect of seeing their parents again.

Stiles expertly pulled into Natalie’s driveway and killed the engine, allowing Lydia to unlatch her seatbelt and turn to him.

“Don’t leave,” she said sulkily, lips jutting out into a pout. Stiles couldn’t stop the pathetic sigh that escaped his mouth, eyes sparkling with adoration.

“You are so fucking cute, Lydia Martin,” he told her readily, reaching out to palm her cheek. “But we need to see our parents…and tell them the good news.”

“Oh?” Lydia asked playfully, brow arched in a way that made Stiles momentarily forget how to breathe. “There’s good news?”

“Yep,” he replied, grinning widely. He reached out to intertwine his fingers loosely in her hair and slowly urged her towards him. Lydia followed eagerly.

“And what might that good news be?” she questioned, voice low and straddling the line between innocent and _sinful_.

Stiles swallowed, mouth inches from her full, utterly _kissable_ lips. His mind flashed back to the previous night, to those very lips bruising a path along this throat, wrapping around his –

 _No_ , he chastised himself, _you can’t see your dad for the first time in months with a hard-on._

“The good news is,” Stiles began, letting his voice turn into something light and far away from this slow seduction Lydia was beginning. “That you, Lydia Martin, are my girlfriend.”

“Oh, am I?” she asked, attempting nonchalance but unable to hide the giddy smile that was reshaping her lips.

“Mhm, and I’m your boyfriend, that means we get to spend all our ti–”

Lydia surged forward, cutting off Stiles’ rambling by looping her arms around his neck and connecting her lips to his, delighting in the way his fingers twitched in her hair. It was a slow kiss, mouths sliding against each other reverently, heat simmering in the background and making promises for another time.

When they parted, Stiles and Lydia were both out of breath, both thinking about things decidedly distant from their parents.

Lydia bent down to put her boots back on and Stiles watched the way her hair splayed across her torso, imagining gathering it into his hands and arching her back like a bow as he took her from –

 _Jesus Christ_ , he thought to himself ashamedly, running a hand through his knotted hair. _Get a fucking grip, Stiles_.

“See you at _Terry_ ’ _s_ tonight?” Lydia asked him as she hopped out of the Jeep, referring their favourite diner in Beacon Hills. He got out of the car as well, circling around to the boot and lifting her duffle bag to her front steps.

“I’ll be here at seven on the dot,” Stiles replied, intrinsically knowing he was going to be late. He pulled her back towards him for one last kiss goodbye and climbed back into the car before driving off, muttering something about _this girl_ and _going to kill me_.

Lydia watched him go mournfully for a moment before turning and strutting up the steps to her front door. A few moments after she rapped her knuckles on the deep chestnut it pulled back with a click to reveal her mother’s smiling face.

“Mom,” Lydia said affectionately, stepping into the hallway to hug her.

“Sweetheart,” Natalie replied, voice comforting in the way only a mother’s voice can be. “How was the ride over?”

“Fine. Relaxing, even.”

“That’s good,” she said, before peering out into the driveway. “Where’s your car?”

Lydia glanced up at the warning tone in her mom’s voice, suddenly nervous. “Uh, Stiles drove me. He’s visiting his dad as well so we thought it would be easier…”

“Stiles?” Natalie asked, clearly searching her mind for face to match the familiar name. “Oh! Your roommate, right?”

“Yeah,” Lydia answered. _Now or never_ , she thought to herself, taking a deep breath before opening her mouth to speak. “And my…boyfriend.”

Natalie was silent for a moment, searching Lydia’s face for any sign that this was another cold, passion-lacking relationship. Instead of apathy in her daughter’s expression, all she could see was happiness, and utter confidence in her feelings, chin tipped in a way that was almost presenting a challenge. _Just try and ask me, mom_ , it said, _he’s different and I’ll prove it to everyone._

“That’s great, honey,” Natalie said after a beat, and Lydia visibly relaxed. “I’d love to meet him.”

“You’ve already met him, mom.”

“In a different context, I mean,” her mother replied, trying to hide the smile threatening to creep onto her face. She had missed her daughter’s quick wit. “Now, come inside. You must be starving.”

Lydia nodded eagerly and quickly dragged her bag inside, unable to control her giddiness. _Finally_ , a relationship to be proud of. With a warm heart and contented feeling, Lydia walked into her childhood home.

 

* * *

 

Stiles twitched the entire way to his house, nervous energy flowing out of him like a steam from a fresh cup of coffee. He wondered how Lydia was doing, if she had told her mom about the two of them, if she was even going to tell her at all.

He was anxious about telling his dad, although he was unsure as to why. Thankfully, the drive home from Lydia’s was fairly short, and he wasn’t alone with his thoughts for too long.

Stiles was barely out of the jeep before his father was in front of him, clasping his shoulder with a firm hand and dragging him into a hug.

“Ow, dad,” Stiles groaned, crushed by his father’s fervour.

The Sheriff quickly pulled back, momentarily looking Stiles up and down, checking that everything was in order. “Sorry, son, it’s just been a while.”

“I know, I know. It’s good to see you too.”

Noah simply smiled and walked around to the back of the jeep, opening the boot and pulling Stiles’ battered suitcase out.

As soon as they walked inside Stiles ran up to his room, flopping down on his bed with an exaggerated sigh. It was good to be home. After an a minute or so of looking around at his room, covered in mementos that didn’t quite make it to the apartment, he made his way back into the living room, eager to talk to his dad.

Noah was looking through a take-out menu as Stiles approached him, unsurprisingly, it was unhealthy.

“Is it cheat day, pops?” he asked, collapsing onto the couch and stretching out as much as possible.

“Every day is cheat day, Stiles,” the Sheriff answered, “I just don’t have the motivation to eat quinoa when you’re away from home.”

Stiles sighed mournfully, struck with the familiar feeling of guilt. He knew his father was prouder than ever to have him enrolled in UCLA, getting his degree, but he also knew he lonely he was in this big, empty house.

“We can have quinoa tomorrow, I suppose,” Stiles said diplomatically. “I’m only allowing this because I have a sudden, all-consuming craving for pizza.”

The Sheriff let out a chuckle and dialed _Pizza Hut_ , ordering a small margherita and a meat lovers.

“So how’s, uh…Lydia, right?” Noah asked in the sudden silence.

 _Well I guess we’re just going right into it_ , Stiles thought, anxiety flaring.

“Yeah, she’s great,” he answered, suddenly _very_ distracted by a lose thread hanging off of his pants.

“What is it?”

“We, uh, we’re actually dating.”

The Sheriff stilled, and Stiles could feel his scrutiny boring into him as though it was tangible.

“Is it serious?” he finally asked. Memories played themselves in Noah’s head, memories of an eight year old Stiles, talking about a girl with strawberry blond hair, asking him how he won mommy over. Memories of a sixteen year old Stiles, clamming up when he asked his son if there were any girls at school he had a chance with, the resigned look on his face. Memories of a nineteen year old Stiles, telling his dad he was moving in with the girl of his dreams, his grin translating through the phone.

If anyone had the potential to break his son’s heart, it was that girl.

Stiles lifted his head at the question, body uncharacteristically motionless. “It’s new, dad,” he began, expression unreadable. “But I love her, and she loves me. It’s a cliché, I know, but nothing has felt this serious in my entire life.”

The Sheriff smiled softly, taking in a deep breath, he remembered saying something similar to his sorry excuse for a father when he met Claudia.

“That’s great, son,” he told Stiles, clasping his shoulder affectionately and feeling the tension leak out of him. “I can’t wait to meet her properly. Your mother would be so proud.”

Stiles gave his dad a watery smile in return, suddenly emotional. They stayed like that for a moment until the sound of the doorbell ringing broke them out of their haze.

The rest of the afternoon passed by quickly, full of laughter and greasy fingers. Stiles hadn’t realised how much he missed his dad.

“Oh, shit!” He exclaimed as they were sitting at the kitchen table, checking his watch for the first time in hours. “It’s seven o’clock, I said I’d pick Lydia up at seven. Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

“Stop swearing so much.”

“Sorry, dad,” Stiles apologised, kissing his father on cheek before darting to the front door. “See you later tonight!”

He got to Lydia’s house at quarter past. She was waiting on her porch in her trusty pea coat, looking exasperated but unsurprised.

“I’m so, so, so sorry,” Stiles rambled, running over to her and peppering kisses all over her face.

“Stop it,” she said, swatting him away. “You’ll ruin my make-up.”

She didn’t look particularly angry though, and Stiles sighed in relief. “Shall we?”

Lydia smiled up at him, giving him a quick peck before circling around to the passenger side of the jeep and climbing inside. Once the heater was on full blast, they both relaxed into their seats and Stiles turned on the radio.

“How is your dad?” Lydia asked him, absentmindedly scrolling through her phone.

“Yeah, he’s good,” Stiles answered, “he’s still refusing to eat quinoa, though. How’s your mom?”

“She’s great. She’s still teaching biology at Beacon Hills High,” Lydia told him, before locking her phone and turning to face him slightly. “I, uh, told her about us.”

Stiles spared her a quick glance. “Oh, yeah?”

“She seems to be happy about it,” Lydia said, delight lacing her voice. “Maybe you could come over tomorrow and meet her…if you want to, of course.”

When he turned his head a fraction to gauge her expression, she was looking straight out the windscreen. He’d rarely seen her so vulnerable.

“I would love to, Lydia.”

“Really?” she asked hopefully, turning to him as he nodded. “Great! I’ll organise it tomorrow. Did you tell your dad?”

“Yep.”

“And?”

“He’s really happy about it,” Stiles said. “He wants to meet you too.”

Lydia grinned. She hadn’t realised how much the Sheriff’s approval would mean to her, but now that she had it she was unbelievably relieved.

“I can’t wait,” she said, placing her hand over Stiles’ knee, the warmth seeping through his jeans instantaneously soothing her.

They arrived at _Terry’s_ moments later and found a booth along the back wall. They each ordered a burger and fries as Stiles moaned about how unhealthy he was being today.

Once their food arrived, they ate in comfortable silence, only punctuated by random observations made by Stiles.

“I just think the whole _guy that spends every night at a diner and everyone knows his order_ cliché is awful, and dangerous.”

“Totally,” Lydia replied noncommittally, carefully choosing which fry to eat next.

“No, really, think about how unhealthy that is, getting fatty food _every night_. It’s like they want to be obe–”

Lydia looked up at Stiles to see why he abruptly cut himself off, and found that he wasn’t looking at her at all. She followed his eye line curiously, until she was frozen in place, staring at the smiling faces of Scott Mccall and Allison Argent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello kiddies, so sorry for the long wait between updates, hopefully you liked the fluffiness of this chapter AND the return of some crowd faves. I also now know how many chapters this fic has left: one more normal chapter and then an epilogue, WE'RE ALMOST THERE YAY!!! more good news: ive had the best idea for a new stydia fic once i finish this one, its defs in the works rn but hopefully i can post the first chapter at the same time as the last chapter of this fic. ANYWAY lemme know what you think of this chapter, reviews are life <3 <3


	22. The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .......
> 
> so sorry guys please forgive me! life just really got in the way. 
> 
> reminder that there's only the epilogue left then i part with this baby forever!!! and when i post that epilogue i will have also posted the first chapter of a new stydia fic so get keen!! 
> 
> love you guys sorry it's been so long

Stiles and Lydia stayed in their seats for a moment, slowly processing the sight of their respective best friends right there in the flesh.

“Wha – ah, wha…huh,” Stiles mumbled eloquently, giving up momentarily to swallow. “What is occurring in front of me?”

“Surprise!” Allison exclaimed brightly, grin wide at the confusion of both Stiles’ and Lydia’s faces. “Now that that’s over, Lydia can I have a word?”

Lydia blinked slowly up at her best friend, brain uncharacteristically quiet. She searched for any signs of unhappiness or tension in Allison’s face, wondering if she had done something wrong without realising, but all she saw was a kind and encouraging smile. _God_ , Lydia thought to herself, _I’ve missed that girl_.

“Sure,” Lydia agreed easily, giving Stiles a reassuring look before slipping out of the booth and following Allison outside of the warmly-lit diner.

They stood just outside of the doorway, both shivering slightly in the brisk winter air.

“So,” Allison began, looking down the smooth slope of her nose at Lydia, honey-brown eyes bright. “When were you going to tell me?!”

Lydia rolled her eyes affectionately. “It only happened yesterday, Ally, how did you even find out?”

“Stiles told Scott like first thing this morning,” Allison replied, a challenging gleam in her eyes. “He’s clearly a much better best friend than you.”

“Hey!” Lydia cried out indignantly, a slight smile pulling at her lips. “I was going to tell you as soon as I got settled in at my mom’s house.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah!” Lydia said with appropriate enthusiasm before lowering voice conspiratorially. “I guess we’ve put that issue to bed….hey, speaking of beds, what were you doing with Scott so early in the morning, little miss?”

Allison let out a laugh, a sheepish expression on her face. “Very good, Lydia,” she awarded, “Scott and I may be in talks of getting back together.”

“And you didn’t tell me?!” Lydia asked loudly, alarming a passing customer. “You absolute hypocrite!”

Both girls stared at each other for a moment before bursting into uncontainable laughter.

“I missed you, Ally,” Lydia said between giggles, pulling her best friend into a hug.

Allison hummed contentedly. “Missed you too, my love.”

The happy pair separated and looked each other up and down a couple of times, enjoying the physical presence of one another for the first time in too long.

Allison tucked a stray brown lock of hair behind her ear. “So you think this is a good thing, with Stiles?”

Lydia nodded, smile turning dreamy for a moment as she looked through the diner windows and saw her loon of a boyfriend gesticulating frantically to Scott. “Yeah,” she answered, turning her attention back to her best friend. “He makes me happy.”

Allison’s expression softened. “I’m very glad to hear that.”

“I want to hear more about this Scott business later,” Lydia said sternly. “Don’t think you’ve gotten away with that, but for now….I’m cold, can we please go back inside?”

Allison let out a bell of a laugh. “Sure, let’s go.”

The two of them entered the diner once again, sighing as a wave of heat enveloped them. Scott and Stiles were both laughing at something when the girls approached and Lydia couldn’t fight the fond smile that shaped her lips.

She slipped in beneath Stiles’ uplifted arm as he pointed at something and revelled in the heavy, warm weight of it as it settled back onto her shoulders.

“Lydia,” Stiles addressed her, tone indignant. “Can you please tell Scott that I didn’t _have_ to tell him we were coming to Beacon Hills?”

Scott turned to her, eyebrows raised expectantly and she bit back her laughter, plastering a neutral expression on her face.

“How _did_ you guys know we were coming?” Lydia asked the pair.

“My mom told me after a conversation with the Sheriff,” Scott explained.

Lydia nodded turning back to her boyfriend. “You should’ve told him, babe,” she said simply.

“ _What the hell?!_ ”

The rest of their dinner passed with ease, the four of them falling into conversation without a hint of the awkwardness that would’ve been present back in high school. Lydia invited Scott and Allison to the lunch that her mother was now hosting the following day and they parted ways when they realised how late it was with sincere hugs and kisses.

When Stiles’ jeep pulled into Lydia’s mom’s drive way, Lydia felt so deliriously happy she couldn’t help pulling Stiles into a clumsy kiss.

“Want to stay over?” she asked him, resting her hand on the side of his neck.

Stiles grinned at her. “Is the sun going to rise tomorrow?”

“Well,” Lydia began, eyebrow’s creasing as she considered the question. “That’s not a statistical certainty. According to Newcomb’s paradox we simply can’t –”

“Lydia, I’m saying yes.”

“Oh,” she replied, face relaxing. “Great!”

The pair exited Stiles’ jeep, holding hands and stealing a kiss or two on the way to the front porch. Lydia could see that Natalie’s bedroom light was off from through the front window and ushered for Stiles to be quiet.

They successfully entered the house without too much noise and took their shoes off, padding up the carpeted stairs to Lydia’s bedroom.

Once Lydia closed the door behind her she knew her mother wouldn’t hear anything below a shout and told Stiles so.

“So you really told Scott about us first thing this morning?” she asked her boyfriend as he looked around her room.

“Maybe,” Stiles replied, sounding sheepish. “I don’t know if this sounds weird, but I always wanted to know what your room was like when we were in high school.”

Lydia scoffed, “Why?”

“Not really sure,” he answered, running his thumb over the edge of her vanity mirror. “I guess back then I thought it would give me more insight into the stone-cold Lydia Martin.”

Lydia hummed in response. It was a fair call, even if it stung a little.

She looked around her childhood bedroom herself, trying to place herself back into the unforgiving state of mind that she was in all through high school. It wasn’t pleasant.

Her room was obviously a little bare after moving a lot of her belongings to college. Her wrought iron bed was still in place, sheets and blanket prepared by her mother. Her study desk had also remained, with used pens and folders lining the back. Stiles was standing next to her vanity, and Lydia felt a spike of unease. She wasn’t that girl anymore. That carefully crafted, emotionally unavailable girl had been left behind.

“There’s a few things missing,” Lydia informed Stiles as she approached him, wrapping her arms around his middle. “Most of my photos and awards are in my bedroom back at UCLA.”

Stiles turned his head to face her with a fond smile. “I’m glad,” was all he said.

The pair then prepared for bed. Lydia found a pair of worn out pyjamas in her closet and Stiles just stripped down to his boxers. As soon as they were under the covers with the light off, he was pressed against her back, arm lying comfortably over her waist and hand interlocked with hers.

“I love you, Lydia,” he whispered against her neck, teeth catching in a way that made Lydia shiver.

“I love you too,” she replied before turning around so she was pressed flush against him.

He was already hard.

Stiles pulled her forward for a searing kiss, hand resting possessively on her throat. Lydia’s stomach flipped and flipped, warmth pooling between her legs as she slipped her hand into his boxers.

A hitch in Stiles’ throat sounded and they were simply connected bodies, sinking, sinking, sinking into the mattress together.

 

* * *

 

“Lydia!” Natalie called out loudly, “come and eat some breakfast!”

“Shit.”

“Stiles, don’t panic,” Lydia said, hiding a laugh. They had both awoken only moments before, disturbed by the clanging of pots and pans.

Lydia forgot how noisy of a cook her mother was.

“I don’t want to meet her like this!” Stiles exclaimed, fear evident on his face.

“Why not?”

“ _Why not?_ ” he repeated incredulously. “I’m not just some one-night stand!”

Lydia could no longer hold in her laughter and let it out in a stream of giggles.

“You are so ridiculous,” she told him, running a hand through his hair. “But if you’re really worried I can sneak you out.”

“Please!” Stiles replied, unsure why he was acting like an indignant mother asking to speak to the manager.

The pair dressed, Stiles in yesterday’s clothes and Lydia in a cute tartan dress paired with black tights. Once they exited her bedroom, Lydia guided Stiles by the hand, silently creeping down the stairs. The kitchen was at the back of the house and the pair quickly kissed goodbye when they heard Natalie organising silverware.

“Don’t be late!” Lydia told her boyfriend in a hushed voice.

“I will not!” Stiles replied similarly, then rose up to kiss her on the forehead.

Once his jeep had peeled out of the driveway, Lydia schooled her features into those of a tired teenager unceremoniously woken up by her mother.

“Good morning, sweetie,” her mother said as Lydia made her way to the kitchen bench. “I’m afraid there’s only cereal for breakfast this morning, I have too much else to do for lunch.”

She smiled fondly. “That’s more than okay, mom.”

Natalie prepared Lydia’s cereal before resuming scanning recipe books for anything new she could cook for her guests.

“Scott and Allison are coming, is that okay?” Lydia asked.

“Of course, sweetie,” Natalie replied distractedly, pulling out a measuring cup. “How do you feel about fried eggplant?”

Lydia hummed at the thought. “Yummy.”

The pair fell into conversation while they cooked and prepared the house, catching up on all that had happened in each other’s lives since they last saw one another. Soon enough, the doorbell rang, and Scott, Allison, Melissa, and Chris had arrived bearing gifts. They settled in the living room, eating the snacks Lydia had placed on the coffee table and discussing any recent events of interest.

Lydia poured them all a glass of wine, waiting for nods of approval from Scott and Allison’s respective parents.

“Of course Stiles is late after I explicitly asked him _not_ to be,” Lydia complained to Scott and Allison after they had situated themselves in the corner of the room.

She missed him.

“Well,” Scott said frankly, “I am unsurprised.”

Allison let out a peel of a laugh. “Lydia, come on. You live with the guy.”

Lydia smiled herself. “Yes, okay. Valid points, both of you.”

As if on cue the doorbell rang, and her heart jackhammered. Lydia stood up gracefully, flattened out her skirt and walked to the door with purpose.

_Okay time to meet the most important male figure in his life,_ she thought, steeling herself. _Girl, you got this_.

Lydia pulled the door open with a smile, and was greeted by a matching expression on Stiles’ face.

“Lydia,” he said, voice soft and loving. Something she had never truly valued until now.

Stiles leant down to kiss her on the cheek and her pulsed raced. God, she loved this boy.

When he pulled back his father came into view. Lydia immediately noted the kind smile, yet wary eyes. _Understable,_ she thought. He was the Sheriff, of course he was going to make sure his son was safe. Well, his son’s _heart_ was safe. Lydia attempted to channel all the goodwill and positive feelings she had for his son into her face. She wasn’t going to hurt him.

“Lydia, this is my dad,” Stiles said, gesturing between them with a bony hand. “Dad, this is Lydia.”

“Hi,” Lydia greeted warmly, outstretching her hand for the Sheriff to shake. “So nice to finally meet you.”

“You too,” he replied, taking her hand and giving it a soft shake. “You can call me Noah.”

“Great, well come in!”

The Sheriff entered first, passing her with a nod and a smile, bottle of wine clutched in his hand. Stiles followed, placing his arm around her shoulders once Lydia had closed the door.

“That went well right?” she asked as he pressed another kiss to her cheek.

“I think so,” Stiles told her, mouth shaped by a smile. “He rarely asks anyone to call him Noah.”

Lydia hummed, feeling satisfied with the introduction. “Now it’s your turn,” she said with exaggerated cheer, patting him on the chest.

“Yikes.”

The pair passed the living room where the Sheriff was greeting Melissa and Chris, and Scott and Allison were in their own world in the corner. When they arrived in the kitchen, Natalie was placing glazed potatoes and pumpkin in the oven.

“Mom,” Lydia called, prompting her mother to turn around. “This is Stiles.”

“Oh, hello!” Natalie exclaimed, quickly taking off her oven mitts and crossing the room to shake Stiles’ hand. “Nice to meet you finally, Lydia has been very secretive about you.”

“Mom!”

Stiles laughed. “She’s probably ashamed.”

“Stiles!”

“Well she has nothing to be ashamed about,” Natalie said, punctuating her sentence with a laugh. “Now, will the Sheriff allow you to drink wine?”

“ _Jesus_ ,” Lydia muttered to herself and Stiles’ cheeks tinged red.

“I certainly hope so!” he answered, smiling awkwardly.

The pair retreated to the living room and Lydia profusely apologised for her mother’s antics.

“It’s okay,” Stiles laughed, “my mom would’ve been the same.”

They joined Scott and Allison, and Lydia poured Stiles a _generous_ glass of wine. The four of them chatted easily until lunch was ready.

The eight guests sat comfortably around the dining table and enjoyed Natalie’s mouth-watering cooking. Stiles had his hand resting on Lydia’s thigh and occasionally squeezed, seemingly without realising it.

Lydia wasn’t sure when she’d felt so content.

When lunch was finished everyone continued drinking and conversing. When desert was finished it was around four in the afternoon. Stiles and Scott were huddled in the corner, talking about something apparently very _secret_.

Lydia and Allison were nearby, and unsurprisingly tipsy, which resulted a shower of compliments from both of them.

“Girls,” Stiles said, suddenly appearing in front of them. “Scott and I have an idea.”

“Do tell,” Lydia prompted, resting her head on her best friend’s shoulder.

“Well,” Stiles began as Scott joined his side, they were also exhibiting the effects of alcohol, glassy eyes and all. “Scott’s house is a pretty short walk from here, and you can easily get onto the roo–”

“And watch the sunset!” Scott exclaimed, cutting Stiles off in apparent uncontainable joy. “Let’s go!”

Lydia and Allison exchanged a glance, non-verbally conveying their feelings to each other, before turning back to the boys.

“Great idea,” Allison said, slurring slightly. “Love your work.”

Lydia echoed the sentiment with a thumbs up.

They simultaneously asked their parents and rendezvoused at the front door. The sun was already low in the sky when they exited Natalie’s house, so they took off in a hurried pace. Stiles’ pulling Lydia and Scott pulling Allison.

“We used to do this all the time as kids,” Stiles explained to Lydia while they walked, hand comfortably enveloping hers. “And now I get to do it with you!”

“Yay!” Lydia replied quickly, giddy with the sense of adventure and Stiles’ warmth.

They made it to Scott’s house in record time, all warm from the alcohol and exercise. Scott let them in and guided Allison and Lydia to the backyard while Stiles grabbed snacks and an unnecessary amount of booze from the pantry. The climb up to roof was only mildly challenging and soon enough the four of them were situated on the tiles, watching as the sun began colouring the clouds.

Stiles and Lydia were sitting side by side, only a few feet above Scott and Allison. When Stiles threaded his fingers through hers and pulled her even further into his space, Lydia thought she might cry.

She’d never been so happy.

As the sun lit up the sky with vibrant oranges and pinks, Lydia thought about her life. How a purely coincidental run-in in the middle of orientation week had led to this. How much she had learned about forgiving and caring and _loving_ over the past few months. How much he had taught her.

“What are you thinking about?” Stiles asked her, voice soft and low by her ear.

Lydia turned to face him, pulse quickening when she saw how the evening sun was bringing out the honey colour in his eyes. He was…something else.

“You know,” she began, lifting a hand to his cheek. “Just thinking about how I want to spend every moment of the rest of my life with you.”

Stiles exhaled sharply, eyes darting back and forth between hers before he leaned forward hurriedly, catching her mouth in a searing kiss.

“Same here, Lydia Martin,” he said once their lips parted, his breath was warm and quick, eyes full of love. “ _Same here._ ”


End file.
